Never Seas
by thoughtsofanonymous
Summary: [Sequel to Red Rebellion] Killian and Emma's headstrong daughter Elizabeth Swan had always been a handful. As if her relationship with the mischievous Peter Pan wasn't already enough of a headache, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday she inherits powers beyond her control. [includes subtle themes from Pirates of the Caribbean] [I own no rights to the characters of OUAT or POTC.]
1. Chapter 1

**Hey readers!**

**Many of you have been asking for a sequel to Red Rebellion and I ****_finally_**** got the opportunity to sit down and start it. (If you have not read Red Rebellion, I'd recommend it for a better grasp on relationship dynamics but it's not necessary to understanding this plot.) I have a ton of plans for this story and am excited to get back to writing! Classes have been somewhat crazy so far into the semester but I promise to do my absolute best to be faithful and get the updates published when I can. This is just the prelude to the story, so don't fret, there is obviously a ton of Lizzipan (and Captain Swan) goodness ahead. I hope you all enjoy it!**

* * *

_The aroma of freshly baked red velvet cake infiltrated the kitchen, which was buzzing alive with excited house workers and chefs eagerly preparing for their young lady's fifth birthday upstairs. Emma walked in, barely causing a stir in the fervent activity in search of the wrapping paper she had to hide downstairs from her daughter. She smiled warmly at the older chefs that bickered over the frosting colors. Though of course Emma could have given her two sense in everything, at that point, she didn't have the energy or heart to interrupt the people at work. _

_She laid out the wrapping paper over a table in the corner away from the action and placed Elizabeth's new wooden sword over the bottom layer. The silver paint that decorated the faux blade of the toy sword shined under the light in the pantry, giving Emma a sense of excitement for her daughter. The plastic inlaid crystals that were glued to the handle looked real enough for a smile to creep up Emma's lip. _

_Though at first she protested against giving her daughter a sword, even if it was a wooden toy, there was no sense in denying Killian the pleasure of teaching his daughter how to sword fight for another year. If he wanted to tame the rascal, by all means. Emma had decided to surrender and leave that task up to him, for now at least. When Lizzie was a bit older, she was to learn all sorts of methods on hand-to-hand self-defense Emma picked up as a bail bonds person. "Swan-style" combat, as Killian fondly termed it._

_Snow wandered down the stairs with a peering gaze. Emma ungracefully waved her over before turning her attention back to finishing getting the toy wrapped. _

_"You're giving in, huh?" Snow grinned. _

_"Toy sword or no toy sword, Lizzie will find ways to cause trouble. At least with this, she'll have her Dad trailing her heels when it happens."_

_The two mothers chuckled while Emma added the final touches. A plump old kitchen maid stomped into the panty from outside the back courtyard drenched by rain. She exasperatedly threw up her hands to shake off the dribbles running down her arm. Snow frowned, "You don't think that the kids would still be outside, do you?"_

_Emma looked up at the window to find fast running streams of rainwater trickling down the glass pane. They could just barely make out the sound of the pattering shower from the open door to the courtyard. _  
_They both sighed with dropped shoulders and hurried upstairs to confirm what they hoped wouldn't be true. _

_Emma and Snow hurried into the cozy living room to find Ariel and Aurora relaxing on a nearby leather couch with their daughters sitting by their feet. Madeline and Rose looked up at Emma with curiosity while their mothers continued to braid their hair. _

_"Is something the matter?" Aurora frowned when noticing Emma's blatant concern. _

_"You haven't seen Elizabeth and James, have you?" Snow looked around the room in case they were grouped in a corner off to the side. _

_Ariel looked down at her daughter for confirmation. Maddie looked back up over her shoulder at her mother before turning to Snow. "They're still outside," she shyly answered in a light voice. Ariel rested her completed braid down by her shoulder; Maddie's dark auburn hair glossed under the sunlight leaking in from the window. Rose bounced on her heels eagerly as Aurora completed her braid as well, resting the light brunette twist down over her daughter's back._

_"Not to worry," Rumplestiltskin spoke from the doorway. "I sent Neal out to fetch the boys to bring them in." He hobbled in through the doorway and made his way to the nearest plush recliner. _

_Emma crossed her arms, "Did it even occur to you that Neal wouldn't be able to catch all of them on his own?"_

_"He didn't," David spoke with an exhaustive smile from the doorway to the foyer. Standing at his side was his six year old son, James. A considerably large puddle had formed where the two boys stood in the hallway; they were both drenched from the storm. "We'll be down soon. I just have to get this guy into a new set of clothes for the party." Peaking out from beneath his wet, shaggy dark hair that stuck to his forehead, James's nose shriveled at the thought of putting on yet another pair of stiff dress pants. _

_It was then that Neal walked into the doorway behind where David and James stood. Hunched over, he had both hands on either side of his younger brother's shoulders to herd him through the door. "C'mon," they heard Neal grumble lightly down at Adam. The little boy looked up over his shoulder as they began to climb the steps of the staircase, "... but I can't just let her win!" Rumplestiltskin grinned to himself, having not seen both of his sons enter the hall behind him, just the mere sounds of their voices gave him a great sense of happiness. _

_Emma took a few steps over to the open doorway. "Neal, where's Lizzie?"_

_He blinked and looked down at David, who shared the same look of amusement."She, uh, she's still outside. I couldn't catch her." _

_Emma dropped her shoulders in defeat as she reached for her rain coat hanging on a rack in the foyer. Before she could shrug the jacket on, the doorway opened a third time. _

_At first, it looked like a shapeless walking mass of dark mud. Only when the figure turned around and dragged an arm over his face did Emma recognize Killian's piercing blue eyes through the layer of muck covering him head-to-toe. _

_A small arm, similarly covered in wet mud, raised up over Killian's shoulder and beat against the back of his legs. "Daddy!" A light voice belonging to none other than Elizabeth Swan herself squeaked out in a giggling protest. With a bemused grin, Killian calmly trudged a track of mud across the foyer towards the stairwell with his daughter playfully thrown over his shoulder. Emma flashed him a grateful smile without giving into the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness. _

_Neal gripped Adam's shoulders when he let the muddied father and daughter pass, keeping his young brother from initiating another challenge out of the birthday girl. _

She looked down at the dark blue cursive iced along the face of the birthday cake: _Happy 18th Birthday Elizabeth! _

Eighteen years. The concept of time gave Emma an unsettled feeling in his gut. How has it already been eighteen years since Lizzie was born? It felt like just yesterday when she held her baby girl in her arms after seven long hours of labor. Hell, she still held on to the vivid memories from even before then. It had been just over twenty years since she pulled that plank of wood off of Killian Captain Hook 'the blacksmith' Jones in the Enchanted Forest. Emma smoothed her thumb over the inside of her palm where the scar still remained from her rum-tended gash. A smile crept up her cheek at the fond memories that were slowly coming back to her; eleven-year-old Henry standing at her apartment door in Boston, coming face-to-face with Snow and David after being immersed in Rumplestiltskin's purple smog, beating Killian (well, Hook at the time) at Lake Nostos, her first leap of faith with Killian in Neverland, the first time she felt Elizabeth kick...

Despite the spent years, Emma didn't feel all that different. Sure, she wasn't about to go climb another beanstalk, but for someone who was starting to get up there in years she felt good.

Two arms wrapped around her torso unexpectedly. Emma recognized the strong salty scent of the sea and old parchment from behind. She turned in Killian's arms. "Looking for something, Captain?"

"Aye. Well, I suppose I was," he mumbled with a lazy grin as he already leaned in for a kiss. Emma smiled against his lips as her hands naturally found the back of his neck. She pulled away just a short distance to let her forehead rest on his. "How has it been eighteen years?" She muttered breathily. "Do you feel old?"

"Time's escaped us," Killian answered. "That said, it has surely been the greatest span of time my life can account for."

"Yeah," she smiled nostalgically, "at least it was time well spent."

"Not to mention it's about bloody time I start to feel my age," he grumbled lightheartedly with a cheeky grin.

* * *

Elizabeth peered out against the searing rays of setting daylight. Her iridescent blue eyes reflected the orange glow of the waning evening sky. She remained propped up on her elbows, which sank deeper into the soft white sand. She stared ahead into the blinding horizon that left colored reflections over the ripples of the bay.

"Lizzie?" Maddie questioned her transfixed gaze. Lying comfortably on the sand, Maddie's long dark auburn hair spread out over her towel. Her eyes, similar to Elizabeth's, reflected pigments of oceanic blue. Though she didn't inherit her mother Ariel's genetic physique of a mermaid, it was clear to anyone who knew Maddie that the beach was her element. Elizabeth sighed and pulled her sharp glare away from the reddening setting sun. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Sitting on the either end of Elizabeth and Maddie, the other two princesses, Rose and Alexandra, smiled with an edge of discomfort.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth blinked obliviously at the three of them.

"Well, you're quiet," Maddie looked over to Rose for confirmation, "too quiet."

"I didn't realize there was a time I've ever been chatty with you lot," Lizzie answered calmly before leaning forwards to establish her footing in the burning seashore. She stood up and brushed the backs of her thighs, which were covered in a thin lining of sand.

Rose swatted the bottom of Elizabeth's ankles to command back her attention. Her bright intense gaze, which she inherited from her mother Aurora, radiated against the setting sunlight. "We're serious. We want to know."

Elizabeth turned around and shot her friend a narrow annoyed glare. "Want to know what, exactly?"

"Who is it?"

"Who is, who?"

"You're can't lie your way out of this, Lizzie. We know you're seeing someone," Maddie's eyebrow perked with amused suspicion.

Elizabeth grinned and crossed her arms, "do you, now?"

"If you weren't, you'd be out there with them," she motioned to the boys standing waist-deep in the surf playing catch at long distances with a leather ball. "We've been debating this all afternoon. You're either with one of them, and if that is the case, you don't want to give your relationship away to the other guys by accident. If not, then you're with someone else and you obviously don't want to be seen parading around with a group of shirtless guys without your beau. Which is it?"

Alexandra, daughter of Cinderella and Thomas, let out an exhausted huff, revealing her flawless white smile. "Oh leave the girl alone. God forbid she keeps something from you two."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she winced out at the surf. The boys were laughing, fighting, skimming the hard leather ball against the surface of the ocean to hit the receiver. Elizabeth would normally be out there with them. Maddie was right, of course, but she couldn't let that show. It was then that she reminded herself then why she had never spent time around these girls; they were far too perceptive for Elizabeth's liking. At least the guys didn't go to great lengths to divulge in each others deepest secrets.

"I'm guessing it's the same guy that gave you that necklace for Christmas," Rose pointed at the sparkling emerald pendent Elizabeth wore religiously. She grasped the charm in her hand, letting her thumb run along the smooth face of the gem. "Oh c'mon, Lizzie! Who is it?"

"Is it Adam?" Maddie smirked.

"No," Elizabeth was quick to answer. "If it was Adam, believe me, you two would be the first to know."

"What a pity. I had such high hopes for you two," Alexandra muttered while keeping her eyes shut against the striking rays of dying sunlight.

"That means we were right though," Maddie grinned. "There is someone."

"If there was, you can be sure I'd never tell you three." Elizabeth smiled easily before she began to turn away from the three girls lying recumbent on the sand. Just as she took her first few steps towards the stretching tides, Elizabeth noticed the guys making their way out of the water towards her. Dripping head-to-toe, James was the first to reach the group followed by Roland and Adam.

Maddie grinned over at Rose, who had already allowed her cheeks to flush. Thankfully under the harsh setting sun, it wasn't too noticeable from where James was standing dripping over the corners of her towel.

"You're already heading in?" Elizabeth tilted her head in distraught.

"Uh, yeah," James blinked confusedly. "Doesn't your birthday celebration start sometime soon?"

The girls all lifted their heads simultaneously in shock. Just as the group turned to study the time on the clock tower, it chimed melodiously. "Damn," Maddie jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of the ends of her towel. The two other girls followed her out a short distance away to whip the sand off from where they lied. The boys watched them with quizzical grins.

Elizabeth backtracked a few steps away from the group before turning to make her way down to the water. The rippling tide rolled over and sunk into the wet stretch of shoreline. Elizabeth's toes began to curl and mold into the wet beads of gritty sand, leaving imprints of her footprints for one to follow. Sure enough, when her feet were finally greeted by the rush of a dying wave, Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder.  
She turned to find Adam standing close behind her. "You're not planning on going into the water now, are you?"

"What would be wrong with that?"

He blinked, astonished by the harsh nip in her tone. "Well... you're party-celebration-thing starts soon, doesn't it?"

"Yes?" She raised her brow in challenge.

"Sorry," he backtracked his seemingly meddlesome approach. "I just thought it took girls a long time to get ready for these kinds of things."

"I can go to my party soaking wet, if I damn well please." She left him and began strutting through the cool ocean water. Just as she was about to dive waist-deep into a breaking wave, she heard Adam begin to slosh after her into the surf.

Then she was underwater. Her entire body tingled with relief at the sharp change in temperature. The sweat along the back of her neck and crevice of her forearm lifted off her skin as shreds of slimy seaweed brushed by her face. The wave that rolled along the surface carried Elizabeth's long blonde curls that stuck to her skin, billowing them out freely over her bare back. She swam back up to the surface and broke the air to catch a breath.

Adam came up from the water after her, clearly having gotten the brute force of the crashing wave she dodged. His slick wet chestnut brown hair fell over his eyes, just like how it did when he was a child. Elizabeth laughed and pushed the hair back so that it perked up in a disarray of directions. "I'm surprised Belle hasn't given you a hair cut yet."

He shrugged with a distracted wide grin. Caught in the final, most diverse plethora of color from the sunset, the trickles of sea water that dripped down Elizabeth's face and neck alighted her already summer-bronzed skin. She left him with a bemused grin before turning her attention back at the warm colors of the seasoned sunlight.

He couldn't pull his attention from her. There was something so drawing about Elizabeth that he had noticed over the past year. He still could not understand it. A mysterious contentment had come about her; it was a happiness that no one in the kingdom could pin point a reason to. The bright glimmer in her eyes sent shivers down his spine, alighting every fiber of desire in his being. His desire for her.

Adam gulped nervously and looked away at the sky before she could turn to notice. "No one ever takes the time to stay and watch the sun set anymore," she finally spoke out. "We used to always come out here just to count down the seconds before the sun disappeared."

They were both treading in water, silently staring up ahead at the sky as it gave its final moments of beauty. Adam let out a deep sigh when the ocean's horizon finally consumed the last sliver of light. "We grew up since then, I guess."

She leaned her head to the side and waited another minute in contemplative silence, watching as the colors slowly faded in the sky to reveal the first glimpses of starlight.

"Lizzie, can I ask you something?" Elizabeth inwardly felt her heart skip in warning. Just by his nervousness, she knew where Adam's thoughts were taking him. She looked over at him with a cautious frown. "I've wanted to talk to you for awhile but there has never been a right time."

"About?" she pursed her lips together in stressed thought.

"Us." The word barely escaped his lips in a low mumble. "We had something before Neverland. I'm not really sure what it was, but it was there."

A great wave of anxiety washed over her in that instant. Of course Adam didn't have a clue how dangerous a statement like that was to make to her; he couldn't know. Elizabeth however knew that somewhere, miles away out in Sherwood Forest, Peter Pan likely froze in his tracks and glared down at the vial of pixie dust hanging around his neck. Elizabeth held onto the emerald pendent that hung down from her neck underwater, feeling the pixie dust hidden within the charm begin to tingle. "Adam...-"

"I left you alone after you came back and gave you space. I wanted you to get better and you did. I mean, you really did. Now you're happier than ever and I can't help but wonder if there will ever be a chance we can pick up where we left off," he paused, "I really miss you, Lizzie. I miss how we were."

"Adam, we were never anything. We've always just been friends. Maybe there might have been a moment when we let things get heated between us, but we were never more than what we are now."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I don't believe that. I know you don't either."

Elizabeth felt more and more uncomfortable as Adam subtly began to close the distance between them. She felt the heart of the pendant begin to heat up. Her hand gripped the emerald and caressed the side of the engraving. _I can handle this_, she communicated in thought.

Before was only speculation. Now Elizabeth knew for certain that Peter Pan, _her_ Peter Pan, had taken notice to the conversation. Wherever he was, sufficient to say, he was angry.

"Tell me what changed," Adam demanded. "Don't tell me that there wasn't a time you felt something for me. Feelings don't just go away, Lizzie."

"You've always meant something to me. We grew up together. You're one of my closest friends."

"That's not all. It can't be," he insisted with a heated gaze, letting himself drift even closer to her.

The pendent now vibrated against her skin in heated rage. Elizabeth squeezed it tightly. _Peter, calm down_. The pendent was hot in her hand, though gradually cooled under her touch.

"Lizzie...-"

"I need you, Adam, but as a friend. Always and forever as my friend," she frowned with softly uttered words. Before he had a chance to make a last-ditch effort to salvage the conversation, she dipped underwater and began to swim back to shore.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth knelt over the birthday cake that glowed brightly under the eighteen white burning candles. The folks around her beamed as she hesitated, made a private internal wish, and then blew each candle out one-by-one. The room broke out in applause.

Everyone, from her closest relatives to her childhood friends, had come to the celebration. It was somewhat daunting for Elizabeth to look out over the crowds and be able to associate each face to a precious memory. She leaned back down to her seat looked over at her brother, Henry, who was clapping with an elated grin.

"I suppose now is as good a time as ever to speak," Killian stood up from his seat. Elizabeth looked up at him with a bright smile, still alighted by the excitement of blowing out her birthday candles. The crowds of people sitting at tables still working on the final bites of their entrees turned and hushed down to give the Captain their full attention. "I, uh," Killian stammered with a nervous grin down at his daughter. "I'd like to say a few words about this fine young lady sitting beside me."

Emma smiled over at Elizabeth, then took Killian's scarred hand for good measure.

"When Emma told me I was to be a father, well, I was terrified." The crowd rumbled in nostalgic chuckles. "No, quite honestly, I was. You see, I've never had a father to look up to. My brother raised me as a boy and since then I had been on my own. After some words of encouragement," Killian glanced over at David, "I convinced myself that Elizabeth would be the start of something new, the start of a new tradition. No abandonment, no suffering, no grief," Killian paused and dropped his head down with a wide smile. "She would have everything that her parents could never have." Emma bit her and gave Killian a soft, reassuring squeeze.

"Then when she was born and I got to hold her, my world changed in an instant." Killian paused and shot his daughter another affectionate smile. "All of the fear and doubt was gone. She was the most astonishingly beautiful thing I've ever beheld." His voice softened as a creep of sweet nostalgia crept up on him. The crowd smiled and nodded, a few of them having actually been there on the night of her birth. "Elizabeth, I've had the greatest pleasure watching you grow over the years, teaching you and raising you to be everything you could be. You've surpassed all expectations we've set, and have grown from an untamable wee little rascal to a strikingly beautiful princess loved by all." Elizabeth felt the blood rush to her cheeks under her father's adoration. "Your mother and I couldn't be more proud of you."

The crowd clapped and cheered to her, raising their glasses in a celebratory toast. Elizabeth felt the shyness creep up and take root in her profusely blushing cheeks.

The party waned down after the strike of 9:30pm. Given that many of the guests had traveled from different realms to the celebration, a good portion of the party had to leave relatively early. Elizabeth wasn't complaining either.

* * *

She stood at the door in the foyer besides Snow and James, saying goodbye to many of the guests as they took their leave. Rumpelstiltskin and Belle both exchanged hearty goodbyes (for Rumplestiltskin, a 'hearty goodbye' meant giving a small nod and knowing grin). Upon walking out the door, however, Belle turned and noticed Adam not behind the two of them. "Rumple, where's Adam?"

Rumpelstiltskin turned and looked around the grand area of the foyer, unable to account their missing son. "He must still be in the coatroom. I wouldn't worry, he'll be out shortly."

Dissatisfied with Rumplestiltskin's lack of concern, Belle looked over at Elizabeth, who had been listening in on the conversation. "Lizzie, would you mind just checking on him and telling him that we've gone out?"

"Uh, sure," she gave an uncomfortable shuffle before turning and making her way down the hall towards the coatroom.

Sure enough when she walked in, Adam was frantically shuffling through each individual coat in search of his own. Though instead of looking through the hanging guest coats, Adam was on the wrong side of the room, moving through the family's coats belonging to Killian, Emma and Elizabeth. "Hey," she smiled and walked around a row of pressed clothes hanging neatly on hangers.

"Oh, geeze," Adam half-jumped, startled by her presence.

"Sorry," Elizabeth chuckled and looked up at the tag in his hand. "You do realize that your coat is over there, right?" She pointed to the other side of the room. He blinked in discomfort, then looked down to the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. "You weren't looking for your coat, were you?"

"I - uh," he fumbled over his words. "I wanted to leave this in your winter jacket pocket."

"What does it say?"

Adam let out a short-lived breath before nervously unraveling the crumpled piece of parchment. "It says, well, I just kind of wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."

"You don't have to apologize, Adam. You said what you felt needed to be said. What I don't understand is why you felt you needed to write an apology instead of just come to me directly."

"I didn't want to cause any more trouble for you. I'm heading back off to school so I won't see you for a while. I wanted you to find this later on in a few days and know that I didn't mean to stress you out."

"Don't worry about me," Elizabeth smiled and accepted the piece of parchment from him. "And you're not leaving for another week and a half. We'll definitely make time to see each other before then. Maybe go on one last hunt with James before he heads off?"

Adam nodded and flashed a smile of relief. "I'd like that."

They both paused in a brief moment of uncomfortable silence before Elizabeth felt the spark of her pendent heat with impatience. _Stop it, Peter_, she thought down at her necklace. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth looked up at the now somewhat expectant grin from Adam. "I came in here to tell you that your parents are waiting outside."

"Oh," he muttered, "yeah I shouldn't forget about them." Adam walked around her and reached out for his coat hanging closest to the far wall.

* * *

All of the guests had left, asides from her grandparents and Henry with his fiancé as of tonight, Wendy. _Of course_ Henry had to pop the question on her birthday, of all times! Though Elizabeth did feel somewhat robbed of 'her thunder' as the birthday girl, the surprise proposal definitely left shock waves through the family. No one, _especially _Wendy, was expecting it. Emma admitted later to Elizabeth that she knew it was coming, and that she was surprised Neal hadn't let it slip. It took Henry a while to convince Regina that Wendy was it. After getting his stubborn mother's consent, Henry apparently couldn't wait much longer. Elizabeth liked Wendy, in fact, there wasn't another girl out there that was as in tune with Henry as she. The legitimacy of the engagement, however, did give Elizabeth a strange sense of uneasiness. He was her only brother, after all.

As entertaining as the night had been, Elizabeth knew she had to get some air. She had to get away from all of the loving hugs, affectionate words of praise, and just gather her thoughts. Not to mention she had an extremely agitated boyfriend she needed to calm.

The glass pane double door leading out into the gardens were opened in silent command. Both guards looked ahead, not daring to look their princess in the eye as she passed through the doorway.

Elizabeth walked out into the well-lit central gardens. The fountains were spraying out a cool watery mist that felt good in comparison to the mugginess of the July air. She kept walking, past the flower beds and rose bushes and down the grand pathway into the sheltered hedge maze. Such a place offered a perfect seclusion from any on-lookers that meant to check up on her.

Elizabeth continued walking through the dark maze of hedges until she found its center. This was one of _their _places, just because it was the next best place besides her bedroom to find some privacy. She looked around, expecting to find his tall skinny frame leaning against a hedge in the shadows. And sure enough, there he was. Standing silently with a narrowed gaze, Peter swallowed back his first initial urge to address the confused princess.

"Peter?" she winced through the darkness to try and get a better look at him. He didn't budge from his stiff stance. His arms were kept folded against his chest; his head was bowed in the shadows to better conceal his brooding scowl. "Peter...?"

He shuffled his weight so that a leak of moonlight could shine over his face. Elizabeth could see the defined muscles of his clenched jaw, the dark furrow of his brow, and the brood of his glare. He dropped his arms down; his fingers were kept in tight fists at his sides. "Is he in there?" He muttered darkly and nodded up at the castle.

"Who?"

"Who do you think?" Peter growled. "The tart that had a nerve to come onto you earlier. Is he still in there?"

"You're not going to touch him," she whispered with a soft bite.

Her quiet warning roused enough wrath to break Peter's composure, leading him to angrily pace across the courtyard towards her. At just a few feet away, Elizabeth could make out the fire burning in his gaze. "Am I to understand you're protecting him?"

"Of course I am. He's one of my closest friends," Elizabeth stood her ground. "It's not his fault, Peter. For all he knows, I'm single and unaccounted for."

Peter's nostrils flared as his hazel green eyes widened in fury. "Well then perhaps he just needs some enlightening."

"No," her hands balled into fists, "you can't. I won't let you."

"Oh, can't I?" He raised his brows with wide, furious eyes. "Have you forgotten what I'm capable of? I'd settle my score with anyone that spoke to you in such a manner and not think twice about it. The Dark One's son is no exception. By the time I'm through with him, even your dear old Captain will take pity."

"Stop it, Peter."

"He'll keep trying, over and over and over again. He's just like his father. He won't part from what he desires. And that's you," Peter pointed rigidly at her as the venom in his tone accentuated every word.

"Please don't," she began to plead. "This was my fault. I should have been more firm with him, more clear. He just doesn't understand." Peter continued to stare down at her with gritting teeth as her eyes softened. "If you hurt him because of this, I'd never forgive myself."

Peter paused, still glaring at her with wide furious eyes, though retreated back from his aggressive stance. Her pacified nature calmed him back from his raging scowl. "We can't go on like this, Lizzie."

She frowned, "you're not suggesting...-"

"I am," he declared. "I'm tired of this game and I couldn't care less about earning your parents' approval."

"You promised," she protested firmly. "I'm not ready for people to know about you. Not yet."

"When, then? When would be an opportune time for you?" His bitterness returned back and rolled of his tongue after each biting syllable. "Once you've moved on from this place and live out on your own, far away from your parents and their rules? Will you tell them then? Or will this forever just be a game with you? Me always there for you once the sun has set, only to depart by morning?" his voice softened. "I'm growing tired of sharing you, Lizzie."

Elizabeth shuffled her weight uncomfortably, "I just don't want to hurt anyone. Things are good right now, I don't want to ruin it."

"Good is hardly the term I'd use to describe this! Have you _any_ idea what you put me through this evening? I had to listen and keep quiet while another tried to have you?" Elizabeth dropped her gaze guiltily while Peter's gaze remained hard and controlled. "It took every ounce of control to keep from flying over that instant and wringing his neck."

"Why can't you just trust me, Peter?" He swallowed silently, watching as she began to take a step away from him. "You honestly think I'm capable of betraying you like that?"

Peter blinked and let out a deep breath. "It's him I don't trust," his voice was weak with a lack of conviction.

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief, betrayed by his doubts. "Don't follow me, Peter. I don't want to see you tonight." She turned away from him and began to walk back to the castle. Almost immediately after turning, he called after her angrily. A quick shuffle of footsteps followed until a hand rested on her shoulder. Rather than turn back, she aggressively shrugged his touch off of her.

"I said _don't follow me_!" she snapped while continuing to storm off.

He stopped his pursuit of her. Every nerve of his body trembled with anger as he watched her leave him and retreat back to the lighted elegance within her castle. Peter felt the fury swell in his gut until his vision blurred with emotion. "Fine!" He shouted. "Go back, then! See if I care!"

Elizabeth grabbed the sides of her dress so that she could quicken her pace out of the hedged gardens. Much to her surprise, he didn't follow her. Despite his threats and his urges, Peter remained faithful to the promise he made to her.

* * *

For the first time in almost two years, Elizabeth had her bed to herself that night. Though at first it seemed liberating to have so much space to herself, the chilled summer night air gradually seeped through the sheets of her bedspread, causing her to miss having his warm frame to cuddle up against.

She tried tucking a pillow between her knees, then cuddling with another at her side, though the satisfaction soon grew stale when she couldn't help but long to feel the curl of his toes against her own, the tickle of his leg hair against her smooth shin. She missed the tightening and loosening of his arms around her waist, the slow warm breath that brushed along the back nape of her neck. She couldn't fall asleep without breathing him in – the infusion of pine and morning dew with a pleasantly unique natural musk that was all his own.

Throughout the early hours of the night she would find herself instinctively reaching out for him, only to grasp cold, empty sheets. The space had become daunting.

Elizabeth battled her regret for leaving him alone in those gardens; for not saying goodbye; for not reassuring him that she _did_ need him. She regretted not stating the obvious, he was irreplaceable and there wasn't another person in the world that could have her heart like he does.

As the night ticked on, the regrets continued rolling in and out of her subconscious until it all felt like an overwhelming nightmare. _What if he did give up on me?_ _What if he goes back to Neverland?_ Her fears began to eat away at her until she felt a nervous sweat form at the roots of her hairline. She didn't realize that she had been squeezing the pendent as if her life depended on it, thus unknowingly sending pleas out for him to rescue her from these nightmares.

The window was already open, so she didn't hear him quietly climb through. It was only when she noticed the silhouette his frame drawn over the moonlight against her wall that she discovered he had come after all.

"Lizzie," he spoke her name softly. "I can't keep away from you when you're thinking such dreadful thoughts."

She paused at first, not knowing what to say to answer him. From how she was lying on her side, she had her back to him but she could still make out the outline of his shape against his silhouette of light.

_He heard all of those thoughts, all of my fears. _"You heard that?" she broke the silence with a broken mumble.

Peter sighed and walked around to her side of the bed. He crouched down to be at eye-level with her. His countenance had cooled since their earlier argument, now replaced with heavy concern. Peter reached out and gently gathered her trembling fist in his grasp, slowly bringing it to his lips with a steady, searching gaze locked in her own. She bit her lip as he lowered their entwined grip down to the edge of her bedspread.

"I've got a temper," he muttered. "And I'm not used to getting all that I want."

"Tell me something I don't know," she smiled gently. He shifted the weight on his crouched legs and swallowed back his nerves.

Looking down at their grip, Peter rubbed his thumb along the inside of her palm. "Your spirit is the only thing in this world I can't seem to control. It frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine." He swallowed, "Tonight I couldn't help but consider what would happen if I lost you, hurt you, broke all that is perfect about you just because I forgot myself for just a brief moment."

She lightly squeezed his hand, hoping to offer some reassurance. He finally looked back up at her with a nervous frown. "I've gone and spoiled your birthday celebration, and for that I'm sorry." There was pleading in his hardened gaze; a certain vulnerability that only Elizabeth would recognize. "Can you forgive me?"

Elizabeth let out the heavy breath she had been holding in. The lines of anxiety relaxed along her brow to soften her gaze. "I already have," she answered back in a hushed whisper. Peter gazed at her solemnly, and then without another word, crawled into bed beside her. She shifted over to give him room while he tiredly kicked off his laced boots. It wasn't long before she felt his encompassing arms drawing her in against his chest. Her back molded into him like a missing puzzle piece, and finally she felt back at home.

A few minutes passed before she worked up the courage to break their sweet silence. "I know I'm asking a lot from you right now. I can't stomach the fact that this has been hurting you, and I'm sorry for what I put you through today."

Peter leaned his face deeper into her golden curls, closer to her ear so that he could keep his voice down to a soothing whisper. "If you haven't already noticed, I'm a greedy boy, Elizabeth. I don't like not having you to myself, day and night." He nuzzled his nose under her ear. "And I'm also quite territorial."

"You're actually perfect," she pressed her lips together as a budding warmth began to stir within her gut. At that moment Elizabeth gave into her urges and rolled over within Peter's embracing arms. She wrapped her leg over his and stretched her arm over his chest. Elizabeth snuggled her face into his shirt, welcoming in his perfect scent as Peter adjusted and tightened his hold on her.

She felt his soft lips brush against her forehead, "And speaking of doubts, you should know that I'd never leave you. Never, no matter what. You're worth more to me than Neverland ever could."


	3. Chapter 3

_The breaking wave tumbled and crashed onto the rolling tide, breathing out a salty mist that sparkled in the low light of the evening sun. There was nothing but the sounds of the waves and the distant caw of seagulls hovering out a short distance from shore._

_Elizabeth stood alone on the beach, curling her bare toes into the dry sand. The sea breeze blew through the white cotton dress that hung loosely over her frame. Her radiant curls that spilled over her shoulders kissed the bare skin of her neck as the air carried them back into the wind. She winced and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the dusting of sand that was carried in the single gust. _

_Ahead of where she stood, Elizabeth noticed a boy trudging through the shallow surf. His dark curled hair was long and hung at the base of his neck. He kept his face bowed down to the water. His white tattered garments suggested him to be a destitute harbor boy of some sorts. _

"_Hey!" Elizabeth called out to the boy, though had no success in catching his attention. He kept walking, seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts to pay any mind to what was behind him. _

* * *

The castle halls were quiet as the clock reared closer to midnight, closer to Elizabeth's official birthday. House workers had all gone up to their bed chambers, leaving no one but the guards to battle their grogginess at the late hour. In the dim lighting of their bed chamber, Emma and Killian were finally readying themselves to retire for the evening. Killian shrugged off his stiff formal wear while simultaneously kicking off his heavy boots. Across the room, Emma pulled on her favorite oversized sleeping shirt. They were too caught up in their conversation to catch the subtle creak of Elizabeth's door across the hall as it opened.

Elizabeth released her light grasp over the knob of the door before taking her first silent step out into the cool hallway. Each step was slow and calculated. Her bare feet cushioned every step to mask the noise of footsteps. Her head was bowed down to the floor, concealing her closed sleeping eyelids.

* * *

_She followed the boy as he took a few steps deeper into the tides. After a moment of what seemed like deliberation, the boy crouched down lower to the water. He rested his elbows over his knees while looking out onto the horizon of the glowing sea. _

_Elizabeth took her first few steps into the water to follow the boy. As she got closer she was able to notice more and more physical details she hadn't seen from afar. Although he was undoubtedly Elizabeth's age, his weathered sorrows etched over his tired facade made him out to seem much older. His hands were dried and cracked from their overuse with the salty surf. His eyes, which were hauntingly blue, were also weary with sorrows and hidden beneath bags of exhaustion. He seemed to be searching for a certain comfort that the sea could not offer. Before Elizabeth had the chance to speak, the boy stood back up and took a few more steps deeper into the water. _

* * *

The gates of the castle that led out to the harbor were quiet with a lack of activity. Considering all of the harbor workers were acquaintances with their Captain, the majority of men that usually spent their nights in the tavern by the harbor were already tuckered out from the castle's celebration and had gone home. The guards patrolled the docks near the back end of the castle and quietly conversed amongst each other about odd details regarding their duties.

The only sound that could be heard over their voices was the black tide licking the shore below where they stood on the wooden walkway.

Elizabeth slowly made her way down the stairwell into the unlit kitchen. Every step she took was lightly cushioned by the balls of her bare feet, keeping absolutely quiet as she traveled towards the back door. The serving tables and preparation counters had been cleaned before the last house maid went up to her quarters, leaving the strong scent of lemon extract wafting in the air. Lost deep within her own consciousness, the dream that had taken over her body and soul, Elizabeth steadily reached out for the door and turned the knob slowly.

Somewhere outside, perhaps along the harbor, a strangled shout broke through the still night silence and awoke Peter who had fallen asleep in Elizabeth's room. The guard's muffled scream was as piercing as a whip crack. Something was wrong. He awoke and felt it right away. "Elizabeth," he instinctively reached out for her, though felt nothing but the warm indent of where her body had just lied. He quickly sat up and scanned the bedroom in search of her. He then noticed the bedroom door , which was left wide open.

_Red flag._ Peter hurried onto his feet, now finally catching on to the curiousness of the situation. Elizabeth never left her bedroom door open. Elizabeth also never left Peter without first assuring him of her return. And lastly she would _never_ run the risk of leaving the door open to anyone who would just happen to walk in and find the notorious lost boy lounging in the princess's bed.

Peter immediately bolted up to the ceiling as the door across the hall opened. Tired footsteps made their way closer to the bedroom door before the knob turned. Peter held his breath as the Savior took a few steps into Elizabeth's room. Judging from the agitated furrow of her brow, Peter assumed Emma had heard the cry as well. She shared the same look of confusion when noticing her daughter missing from her bed.

"Lizzie?" Emma asked with a hard questioning tone towards the door that led out to Elizabeth's private bathroom. "Lizzie, you in there?"

Peter blinked with a steady breath, stealthily hovering in the dark shadows along the ceiling over Emma's head to keep out of her line of sight. Emma approached the door and tapped lightly three times before opening it. Peter watched intensely as the Savior stepped in and out of the bathroom. Her countenance had changed in the split of a second; her hazel green eyes had widened with the awareness that her daughter had run off.

Emma hurried out of the room back towards her and the Captain's chambers.

Peter lowered back down to his feet when he heard the door across the hall slam. A great swell of agitated determination came over the boy. Following the antics from the previous night, Peter was not going to allow Elizabeth this slip. She couldn't test his patience by running off on a whim. Not now, especially with all this shouting.

Knowing that there was no way he could freely walk the halls without running into either the Captain or the Savior, Peter angrily paced over to the window and looked down below to the docks that stretched out over the bay. Utilizing the most basic grasps of magic, he narrowed his eyes and focused in on certain spots. He was shocked to find the walkways curiously deserted of all drunken sailors. He scanned the docks in search of Elizabeth until he caught sight of a single guard standing with his back to the castle.

The guard's posture gave Peter his first inclination that something was indeed very wrong. He was bent at the side and his stance was unnatural, as if he were being held up by another. Then at the snap of the guard's neck and glimmer of a passing blade along his jugular, the body collapsed onto the deck. Another dark figure, that had been formerly concealed by the guard, stood over the twitching body. Peter felt his stomach sink as the figure turned its attention up at the window from which the lost boy stood.

This was no mere pirate. It was inhuman; Peter could recognize the hardened scales lining the murder's dark flesh. It's eyes were blackened and devoid of all its humanity. The figure gave Peter a twitching smirk before turning into a puddle of seawater to be absorbed by the wooden boards.

Peter swallowed, feeling his fragile heart race when finally spotting Elizabeth. Using more of his magical strength, Peter zoomed his gaze even closer to her to see her bowed head and her unconscious closed eyes. She continued to walk out on the boardwalk that stretched over the sea, getting closer and closer to the unbarred edge. "No," Peter gripped both sides of the window frame as his eyes alighted in fury.

* * *

_The boy continued to slowly make his way out into the water. The calm surf kissed the boy's hips, allowing the frayed bottom of his shirt to float at the surface by his stomach. Elizabeth hesitantly took a few more steps out until the water had reached her knees. _

"_What's your name?" she yelled. _

_The boy kept going. He did not kick out his feet and plunge underwater, nor did he stay afloat by treading water. He just kept walking. Elizabeth frowned, concerned by what exactly she was witnessing. "Wait, what are you doing?" _

_The boy continued to move at an eerily slow pace deeper and deeper until his head had submerged under water completely. _

_It was surreal to watch the boy disappear into the ocean in such a strange manner. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether she was at liberty to even take action. She didn't know him, after all, and he didn't seem all that interested in making her acquaintance. She battled her options as the first minute passed of nothing but her staring idly at the slow roll of the current._

_The boy had been underwater for far too long. She had counted a minute in her mind, and knew this was no ordinary swim. He hadn't come up for air. Elizabeth looked up and down the shoreline for any sign of onlookers that could offer help. Finding no one in her sights, she turned back with resolve and began to make her way deeper into the ocean after him. Just as she was about to duck her head underwater, the boy shot back up. _

_Unlike before, his motions were quick and abrupt. His head snapped up through the surface to gasp for air. He splashed around for a moment, observing his surroundings as if he didn't have a clue where he was. That steady gaze had turned into something disorientated, lost, confused, and perhaps even fearful. He seemed alive. _

_Elizabeth took a step back from him, half-expecting the boy to notice her presence and offer some comment or explanation. He did neither. In fact, as he turned in her direction his gaze did not so much as acknowledge her. It was as if she were a ghost to him. _

"_Are you alright?" She stared at him incredulously. _

_The boy lifted a hand up out of the water and gawked down at something that had not there before his swim: a ring. The sliver of silver encased a curious looking creature that devoured the front side of his finger with its curling tentacles. The two beady eyes were inlaid sapphires. The boy swallowed nervously. A look of discontent and worry came over him when suddenly his attention was pulled towards the shore in the direction of a distant shouting. _

_A boy, no older than eleven or twelve, had run towards the shoreline. The boy was also dressed in tattered clothing and had a very slim shape. His dark hair was matted and frayed, pointing up in the direction of the salty breeze. Despite this haggard appearance, there was something also so haunting familiar about the little boy. Perhaps it was his eyes, which were so strikingly blue and indescribably comforting to Elizabeth. She could have sworn to herself that she knew him, somehow he was so familiar. _

_The boy stopped short of the sinking tide and crossed his arms. "You promised you wouldn't wonder off on your birthday." His accent, which was unique in its own fashion, immediately struck Elizabeth. She had definitely met this boy before. _

_The teenage boy wiped all evidence of trauma from his expression and replaced it with a carefree grin. "Apologies brother, heaven forbid the day comes when I'm not here to keep watch over you." The sarcasm was clear enough for Elizabeth to discern; however, apparently not for the little boy. His innocent eyes widened in offense. _

_The older brother chuckled and began to trudge out of the water, "Relax, I'm only toying with you." As the boy passed Elizabeth, still ignorant of her presence, she noticed him slipping the ring deep into the pocket of his trousers. _

* * *

Elizabeth walked down the harbor walkway. The docks were quiet, too quiet. Not a single presence could be made out on either side to stop the Princess as she turned onto the boardwalk that stretched out over the sea. The waves rattled and clawed up the weathered poles towards where Elizabeth stepped.

She had made it to the very edge of the pier where the walkway ended and invited the great plunge of the sea. Elizabeth faltered at the end of her route and curled her toes over the edge of the panel, unknowingly standing over the great mass of black ocean ahead.

* * *

_She took her first few steps back towards the shore when suddenly her two feet sunk a considerably deep into the underwater sand. Elizabeth snapped her head down with a nervous frown. She began gently squirming in the foothold, hoping for some release, however it only seemed to make it worse. _

_Elizabeth looked back up at the brothers who were slowly fading in the distance, walking side-by-side. "Hey!" She shouted, "Wait!" The two boys did not take notice to her shouting, giving Elizabeth a great surge of anxiety. She squirmed again and attempted to kick her feet out. _

_When turning and searching desperately around for any other help, Elizabeth caught sight of a figure standing out in the water a far distance from where she was. At first. she was sure it was a man. Judging by his dark ragged clothes and leather hat, perhaps he was a pirate. None of that was a bother to Elizabeth, considering she had already met a handful of 'fearsome' pirates in her time. _

_It was only when the man moved his attention to her that she noticed its monstrosity. In the place of a beard, a spill of tentacles curled and twisted over the collar of his jacket. His skin was a sickening inhuman shade of green. The man-monster flashed Elizabeth a contorted grin; its eyes the brightest shade of blue. _

_Her heart skipped in fear. Elizabeth bent over and reached down into the water to pull her ankle out of the sand with brute force. She yanked and pulled, but it was to no avail. She was stuck in what felt like a deepening sink pool. _

_Just as she began to straighten herself out, a hand grabbed her arm to pull it back underwater. The grip was so painfully strong, she felt her joints snap. "Your turn," Elizabeth heard a deep twisted voice echo in the back of her mind. She let out a foul scream, though was immediately silenced when pulled underwater. _

* * *

Emma heard the guards shouting and running to the harbor up from her bed chamber. It didn't take Killian more than a few seconds to jump out of bed and throw on his nearest shirt before the two of them hurried downstairs.

The castle had awakened in commotion. House workers were hobbling downstairs from their quarters, still wearing their nightgowns and loose fitting pajamas. Confusion and havoc could be felt all around, though for some reason, Emma knew where to go. Killian followed her wordlessly as the two of them ran downstairs, through the kitchens and out the back door leading out to the bay.

Approaching what looked like mass chaos along the walkways of the harbor, Killian grabbed Emma's hand and pulled her back. "Emma wait," he cautioned as they both caught sight of the crowds of guards flocking to the bodies of three of the counterparts. "Stay here just for a moment," he muttered while beginning to pace across the docks to the hysterical men surrounding the bodies.

Emma swerved her sights across the decks, desperate to catch any sign of her daughter. She looked out over the pier, which stretched out a decent way over the ocean and saw nothing.

There were no others besides the oncoming swarm of soldiers that were rushing to greet the scene.

Just as she turned to look back at Killian, she noticed something _different_. Far off along the shore where the black tide continued to roll over streams of white foam, a figure was being pulled from the water. Emma felt the pit of her stomach twist. She broke off in a sprint down the beach towards the boy pulling Elizabeth out from the rushing surf.

She recognized the boy right away. His name was William. He was small for his age, and even then he was no older than ten years at most. Emma had known him for over a year, seeing as he worked as a kitchen hand downstairs. Normally he was bashful and always courteous whenever in the presence of the royal family. He was silent and waited to act until told to do so.

With that understood, Emma immediately noticed there to be something... off about him. Not even taking the question into consideration as to why _he_ of all people was the one to pull Elizabeth out of the water, his demeanor wasn't normal. He didn't falter from nervousness or uncertainty. There were no traces of doubt or hesitation. He kept his hard glare focused down on the princess, who lied unconscious in his arms.

William proceeded to begin his resuscitation, pressing firmly down on Elizabeth's chest for a strict count before breathing a heavy push of air into her lungs. Emma knelt down by the boy's side and pressed a hand to Elizabeth's unresponsive face. The longer it took, the more furious each press became. William gritted his teeth and continued to breath heavy gusts of air into the Princess's lungs.

"Come on darling," the boy uncharacteristically addressed the princess in a low growl.

Finally buckling under the small boy's resuscitation, Elizabeth choked and rolled to her side to force out the sea water lodged in her lungs. William dropped his jaw and fell back on his heels in relief. Emma leaned forward with a look of terror down on her daughter, "Lizzie."

After a moment of heavy breathing, Elizabeth reluctantly opened her eyes. She immediately fell into shock. Her arms reached out and fisted handfuls of sand as her feet kicked out in protest. Her eyes had begun to water with some inexplainable terror. Emma lunged forward and pinned Elizabeth down into the sand to restrain her.

Elizabeth looked around, completely disconcerted and confused as to where she was. Her breathing was ragged and heavy, unable to be sedated by her mother's firmness. Elizabeth turned to find William leaning back on the sand, watching her with a crazed wide-eyed glare she could recognize all too well.

_Peter. _

The ten-year old boy blinked and fidgeted in the sand before standing. Without saying another word, he calmly walked up the beach back towards the castle.

It was not long before Killian passed the young boy in a rush over to where the two girls were still lying in the sand. He dropped to his knees to be even with Emma, who had Elizabeth still cradled in her arms.

"Elizabeth, what in God's na-..." Killian began, though stopped short of finishing his thought. Emma and Elizabeth both looked up to him, then followed his disturbed gaze down to Elizabeth's forefinger, which was now adorned with a large silver ring bearing a sapphire-eyed sea creature.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wake up, sleepy!" A whining high-pitched voice sounded across Elizabeth's bedroom, awakening her from her brief lapse of sleep. Elizabeth turned and reached across the bed, though found no satisfaction in feeling the empty space beside her. Peter was gone.

Her eyelids reluctantly cracked open to recognize the girl standing by her door.

"Maddie?" She mumbled groggily. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you went home last night."

"I did," the princess answered coolly as she made her way over to her bedside. "Soon as we got back, we received an urgent message from your parents asking for my mother to return to the castle. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth answered easily, though it took her a moment to recollect what had actually taken place. "I mean, well, I don't know."

_What had happened?_

She remembered Peter coming to her bedside, begging for forgiveness then holding her close as she fell asleep in his arms.

She remembered fragments of a dream, a distant recollection of emotions that she felt while following that mysterious boy out into the sea. She remembered the dream then taking a turn for the worst, shaping into some horrific nightmare that was too painful to recollect in words. But then she was awake. Lying on a beach, in the arms of the house worker (secret lost boy), little Willie. Though it wasn't Willie; it was Peter playing "puppet master." Peter had pulled her out of the water. He resuscitated her. He rescued her out of that estranged nightmare.

She remembered the look of horror etched over her mother's face as she took her in her arms; her wide hazel green eyes gawking down at her as if Elizabeth truly had been brought back from the dead. It took five hours in total to gather the three guards' bodies, clean them off, notify family members to come into the castle in the late hour of night to inform them of the news and offer proper identification.

She remembered being questioned. _Who kidnapped you? Why would you leave your room? Are you sure you don't remember anything? Why did you jump into the water? Surely there must be something you can tell us? _No, there wasn't. Elizabeth didn't know anything. She couldn't offer any help to identify the murderers that attacked the harbor, nor could she begin to understand what had led her to sleep walk onto the pier.

All she could think about was the dream: the boy that walked into the ocean, the little child yelling by the shore, and the monster. The monster's face was scathed in her mind, sending shivers down her spine whenever there was even the briefest lapse in interrogation.

By the time Elizabeth was permitted to return to her bedroom, the sun had already begun to rise. She walked into her room only then to be greeted by Peter, who had been pacing back and forth in her room for hours driven mad with concern. Normally she would have gone out of her way to soothe his worries. She would have assured him that everything was fine and that she'd be fine. But she couldn't. She didn't say much to him; she felt drained of all excuses and just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep.

Even when Elizabeth shut her eyes, she couldn't shake the pain that welled inside of her. It didn't matter that Elizabeth could not account for the guards' deaths, she still felt responsible. _Why them and not me?_

Peter knew he had to somehow get her to rest. He could already see the guilt beginning to well in her eyes as she aimlessly stared into the bare fireplace. The first hour consisted of Peter holding Elizabeth in silence. He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair and brushed the occasional kiss along the roots of her hairline to reassure her that he was still there. She tried to sleep, but it was no use. When the first teardrop rolled down Elizabeth's cheek, Peter pulled out his pipes and began to play a slow lullaby. Ten minutes passed of Elizabeth listening to the melody, letting her eyes blur and let out sorrows of her guilt.

The only part of the night she couldn't remember was when she fell asleep by his side.

"Lizzie?" Maddie repeated herself with a look of concern. Her glossy auburn hair had been let down from the intricate bun she fashioned at Elizabeth's birthday celebration, now spilling in wavy curls down over her shoulders. "Your Mom told us what happened. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she answered curtly. "There's nothing really to talk about. We don't have much to go on, asides from the apparent fact that I sleepwalk into the most precarious circumstances."

"Your Dad was pretty worked up when I saw him earlier. He seemed to have a few ideas."

"Where is he now?"

"Downstairs with your Mom in a meeting with my parents. I was told to come up here and hang out with you for awhile. You know, to try and play the 'get answers out of the friend' tactic."

"I told you, I don't know...-"

"Relax," Maddie raised her hand. "I'm not going to push it. I just want to be up here in case you did feel like talking, or if you wanted to get your mind off of it. I'm a good talker too, you know." She fell onto the other side of Elizabeth's bed. Immediately her eyes widened playfully as she rolled over to press her face into the large feather pillow. "Mmmm, Lizzie!" she smiled. "Your bed smells like attractive boy."

"What does that even mean?"

"You know, that musky boy scent? Your pillow is infatuated with it." She grinned and dropped her face back against the pillow. "Wait so you've actually had him up here? In your room?" Maddie gawked at Elizabeth with her face still half brushing against the soft pillow case.

"No of course not! How would that even be possible? My parents are just across the hall!"

Maddie shrugged her shoulders and leaned back down into the pillow. "Despite what you said, I'm still betting on it being Adam. You two are made for each other."

"It's _not_ Adam. Just trust me on that."

"Yeah well I can't see him getting away with sneaking up here into your room without your Dad noticing." She giggled, "Oh god, can you even imagine?"

"No," Elizabeth smiled. "I don't think Adam would survive a run-in like that. He's too gentle."

"Yeah but he's smart," Maddie raised a brow. "I remember grade school when you two would go at it during physical training. You have the form and speed, but he had spent all that time studying those different styles of sword fighting. You two were so evenly matched every time."

"We probably still are," Elizabeth chuckled. She let her thoughts stray far enough to get caught up in the fondness of her memories. When it came to competition, it was always with Adam. They were naturally meant to contest each other given their history: son of the Crocodile and daughter of Captain Hook.

"So," Maddie interrupted Elizabeth's deep train of thought, "you're absolutely sure nothing's going on between you two."

"Yes I'm sure."

She leaned back with a frustrated glare. Her arms crossed over her chest. "I just don't get it then. There's no one else I can see you having a thing with. Whenever you head out to sea, you're working with gross old geysers and your Dad. During the academic term, you're always either with Rose and I or the guys. Adam's the only..-"

_Tap tap, ta-tap tap, tap tap. _

The three knocks were light, though loud enough for the two girls to hush the conversation. "Yeah?" Elizabeth called out for the guest to enter. A boy, dressed in the house worker's standard uniform of a white button down shirt and pressed khaki pants, walked into Elizabeth's bedroom. He carried a tall stack of balled up sheets, pillow cases, and a comforter. "Apologies for the intrusion, Princess. Just thought I'd bring up a fresh set of bedding for you."

Elizabeth felt her stomach drop at the immediate recognition of the boy's deep accented voice. The house worker settled the pile of white bedding onto a nearby chair and then stood straight to give a better view to the two girls lounging over her unmade bed.

Peter stood there, clear as day, disguised as a simple house worker. He had rolled up the long sleeves of his white shirt, letting the rest of the shirt hang over his waist untucked from his khaki pants. The ends of his golden hair were softened in the light from the window. He grinned and picked up the first crumpled sheet to begin folding. "Seeing as Captain and Savior are preoccupied at the moment, your father has given me the order to keep watch over you." He muttered while easily folding each piece of bedding into a neat square to be settled on her desk.

Elizabeth smiled, "Yeah I bet he has." _Over Killian Jones's dead body._

Peter smirked in recognition of her snide thought, keeping his eyes averted from the girls and convincingly on the chore. Maddie gawked at Elizabeth with utter shock. The corners of her lips curled in an excited grin as she silently pointed a finger over at Peter. Elizabeth shook her head abruptly.

"Ah," Peter grumbled with mock-frustration. "I think I've forgotten one downstairs. I'll be back in a moment, ladies," he sauntered across the room confidently and strolled out of the door.

"Lizzie!" Maddie finally opened her mouth with a beaming smile. "_Who was that_?"

"That was not what you think," Elizabeth tried to cover some ground. "He's just another house worker. I couldn't even tell you the kid's name."

"Yeah _okay_," Maddie mocked Elizabeth while looking back at the door. "I mean...just... _hot damn_ where do you find your house boys? I'll have that if you don't want it!"

"Maddie, he isn't fit for you!" She laughed off Maddie's attraction, though on the inside began to feel a taste of revulsion. _Yeah like hell you'd have that_, she thought bitterly as the door opened again. Peter walked into the room carrying another crumpled up sheet.

"Hey," Maddie smiled over at Peter. "How old are you?"

"How old am I?" Peter raised a brow innocently. Maddie nodded. He furrowed his brow in mock-contemplative thought, "Well I'm afraid I've lost track of the precise number. I'm much older than I look."

"Really?" Her smile widened like a predator eying her prey, and it made Elizabeth's blood boil. What was worse was that Peter knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on Maddie. "I'm surprised I haven't seen you around the castle before during functions."

"For starters, I haven't worked at this residence long enough to be offered such a privilege as working upstairs during the parties. Whenever we do host events, they keep me downstairs. That's also not to mention I'm quite shy. I would probably get flustered in the presence of so many guests."

Maddie tilted her head to the side with an enthusiastic chuckle. "Well, aren't you adorable."

Elizabeth broke the skin of her bottom lip as she bit down hard, tasting warm trickles of copper. She knew Maddie's routine for picking up guys; she had grown up seeing it in grade school. Her posture arched just a small degree forward, but it was enough to accentuate her chest. Her eyes narrowed with a playful smile, drinking in the sight of him.

"You're too kind, Princess," he grinned boyishly before continuing his focus back on the folding linens.

"Peter!" Elizabeth stammered a little too loudly. "I'd like some breakfast. Can you go downstairs and let them know that Maddie and I will be down shortly?"

He smirked as he bowed his head, "It would be my pleasure, Princess."

He strolled out of the room without protest. Of course he wasn't going downstairs where her parents were, but whenever he played these games he always followed Elizabeth's rules. She kept her hard glare on the shut door for a moment before looking back at Maddie.

"You couldn't recall the kid's name, huh?" Maddie giggled. "Damn Lizzie, I know he's just a house worker but if I got to see _that_ every morning...-"

"Hey Maddie," Elizabeth interrupted her abruptly. "You should get some breakfast. I'm going to change and be right down."

"Umm okay?" She agreed skeptically then stood. "Promise you won't stay up here and skulk if I leave you?"

"Yeah," she smiled. _Go before I strangle you._ She thought bitterly though was able to keep up a collected smile. Maddie raised a brow at her as she walked over to the door. Once leaving, Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up.

She walked into her bedroom closet, which was the size of a second bathroom with jackets, blouses, dresses, and riding suits hanging on either side. Peter sauntered out from behind a coat rack. His eyes were delighted with amusement at the sight of Elizabeth's raging scowl.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" She snapped. "She was practically undressing you with her eyes and _you let her_. You just sat there with that twisted little smirk of yours and _let her_ without so much as a single implication that you weren't interested."

"It's not as fun when you're on the other end, is it Princess?" he muttered coolly. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice before allowing the Dark One's son to speak his mind."

Elizabeth glared knives at him as she walked him into the wall. Her body pressed up against him, leaving him little room to move. "You listen to me, Peter Pan," she leaned closer so that her lips brushed his ear. Her hand slid up the back of his neck into his silky golden hair. Her voice hushed menacingly as she spoke. "You're in _my_ house. This isn't Neverland where you can go parading around as King controlling everyone at your own will. While you're here, with me, you will respect me."

Peter let out a breathily chuckle in response, tightening his hungry grip around Lizzie's waist. She slipped the edge of his earlobe between her teeth. "You are _mine_," she whispered.

"Am I now?" He challenged with an equally hushed voice. Peter's bent head hooded the storm brewing in his possessive glare down at her. His breath had become ragged while gently bringing a thumb up to her bleeding lip. "You really ought to let me fix that."

Elizabeth swallowed back the saliva pooling in her mouth. She maintained a fierce gaze meant to challenge the stubborn lost boy towering over her, grabbing his hand that rested over her cheek. "Your charm can't get you out of everything, you know."

Just a mere inch from her face, Peter could smell the subtle aroma laced over her skin, the scent that was all Elizabeth. "I'd wager it could," his voice came out low and husky; dark, as it always did when he felt greedy with her. Her eyes slowly shut while a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her grip in the back roots of his hair suddenly tugged him back so that she could lead him to her lips.

They collided aggressively, sucking the air straight out of the other's lungs as they clawed at the other's shirt. Elizabeth bit down on Peter's lip hard, earning her a deep growl that resonated into the back of her mouth. His tongue clashed against hers in a truculent war for dominance.

Peter's arms fell from Elizabeth's sides down to the back of her hips, where he suddenly hiked her up so that her legs were wrapped round his waist. He turned with her in his arms, slamming her against the wall to effectively pin her. Elizabeth leaned into his locked embrace welcoming the change in position so that she could have the upper angle on him. She grabbed the open collar of his house worker shirt and ripped it open. Small white buttons flew off in all directions over the floor. Peter let out a low groan as her hands roamed the bare skin of his toned chest.

He dropped his mouth from her lips down just below her ear, where he began to work his way down her neck. Sucking, biting, licking, kissing, Peter thoroughly marked the skin Elizabeth's neck as his own, claiming possession over every inch of her he could reach. Elizabeth dug her nails into the top of his spine as her head fell back. Her eyes closed as the pleasure of his ministrations teased the hot yearning in her lower gut.

Peter leaned up to catch her lips again, pulling her attention back on him. Keeping a firm hold of her, Peter walked them away from the wall. He stumbled down to the ground with her still wrapped firmly around his waist. Her back hit the carpeted floor hard.

Peter took no time in ripping the flimsy white cotton shirt to shreds. There was nothing left besides a black lace bandeau that wrapped comfortably over her sun-kissed bronze cleavage. He attacked the newly exposed skin her collarbone, letting the chain of her necklace slip between his teeth as his kisses lowered further down her chest.

"Damn you, lost boy," Elizabeth muttered breathily. His lips curved in a wide smirk as he continued to pepper kisses down her waist.

* * *

"Have you seen one of these before?" Killian pushed the ring across the table to where Ariel and Eric sat. The room went quiet as the Captain unveiled the suspicious artifact to the gathering. David and Snow, who sat to the left of Ariel and Eric, shared the same look of confusion that Emma did. At the other end of the table, Rumplestiltskin and Regina warily glared down at the object in silence.

Ariel eyed the ring on the table hesitantly without moving to touch it. She looked back up at Killian with a knowing frown. "Yes of course I have," she muttered lowly. "Was this given to your daughter?"

"Yeah," Emma answered tentatively. "It was found on her finger when she was pulled out of the water." She looked at Killian then to Ariel, confused by the growing sense of fear in the room. Even Eric lowered his eyes away from the ring in discomfort.

"What does all of this mean for Elizabeth?" Killian questioned.

"I think you already know the answer to that," Ariel answered. "She has just come of age after all."

The Captain shook his head stubbornly. "Surely there must be a way out of this. Can you not call upon your father for counsel on the matter?"

"You know I can't. My father has forbidden our people to entangle ourselves in the likes of... him."

"Hold on, who are we talking about?" Emma frowned impatiently.

Regina glanced over at Rumplestiltskin, who had leaned forward to grasp hold of the ring. He studied the welded sea creature uneasily. "It seems her dear old grandfather Davy has taken an interest in her."

"Excuse me?" David growled from across the table.

"You know, not everything is about you, Charming," Regina muttered irritatingly. She shot a look over at Killian, who had already gone pale with anxiety. "He meant her _other_ grandfather."

* * *

Maddie impatiently knocked on Elizabeth's closet door. "Come on, Lizzie! You've been in there for a half hour!" The knob was locked from the other side, which annoyed Maddie. She hated it whenever Elizabeth would go into these seclusive moods. One minute she would be fine, the next she would isolate herself and push everyone today. Well it wasn't happening now, not on Maddie's time.

"If you don't answer me, I'm coming in there. I can pick locks!"

The door finally unbolted and slowly opened. Elizabeth stumbled out. Her hair was messed and knotted in the back, more so even than when she first woke up. Her gaze was distant as it stared down at the floor, glowing and seeming somehow sated from all her concerns. Her clothes were mismatched, which wouldn't have surprised Maddie if it hadn't of been for the article of clothing she wore around her neck.

"Lizzie, it's eighty-five degrees out. Why are you wearing a scarf?"

"Just... don't talk," Elizabeth mumbled. "I need some food."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: I've gone and fixed the labeling of these chapters. What was first known as the prelude as been relabeled as Chapter 1. I've worked my way up from there. Also I am so very sorry for not updating sooner, I was kept busy at a conference which left me little to no time to write. I guess you could say this is the point in the story where the plot will begin to turn...**

* * *

Killian leaned back into his chair. Everyone else sitting around the dining table watched him warily, waiting for more elaboration on the subject of Davy Jones. He winced as he resurfaced his most painful, buried memories.

"Liam and I had always been told that my father was a merchant sailor that had been claimed by a storm. It was only until after the death of my brother that learned of his true identity and relation to me." Killian swallowed, "In life, my father sailed under a different name, a different moniker that many men feared him by. He's always been a vicious man held under no code of honor." Killian glared down at his thumb and forefinger as they rubbed together in senseless distraction. "Asides from that common knowledge, not much is known of him since it is nearly impossible to escape once caught in his rule. If sworn allegiance, a sailor must earn his right to a second chance at life aboard the Dutchman: one hundred years of servitude."

Eric cleared his throat, "All sailors have heard of him through folklore and legend. When I was trained aboard our naval ship as a child, the crew men would sing stories about him. Though I can't really attest how much of this is true, I've always been under the belief that he's been some sort of ferryman of lost souls. If a man were to die on a ship, his body is typically buried at sea. It was believed that the dead sailor would then go before Jones to face his sentence: rest in peace or be sent to the locker."

Emma frowned at Killian, "So you've never actually seen him?"

"Once... soon after I shed my naval uniform and commandeered the Roger. My brother had died and left many of his possessions behind in his quarters. When looking through it all, I came across a ring stowed in the private compartments of his desk, identical to this." He held up the artifact. "Though I had never seen him with the ring before, I assumed to be one of his well-kept heirlooms. Unaware of the consequences, I put it on as a token to his memory."

Ariel shut her eyes in distraught.

"Consequences?" Emma asked.

Killian nodded, "For whatever reason, my father was reluctant to name me the next heir. I had no right to wear my brother's ring, and for that, he sent his cursed crewmen aboard my ship. In the course of that night, most of my crew had been slaughtered. I offered the return of the ring for mercy to the surviving sailors aboard the ship."

Snow leaned slightly forward over the table with a look of confusion. "If he didn't give you the inheritance, why is Elizabeth having to deal with this?"

"I wish I knew. Had I even the slightest concern that he'd go after Lizzie, I would have done something to prevent all this from occuring. And despite all that I learned of my lineage to that man, I've yet to understand why he never sought me out; why he never considered me a viable option to the inheritance. Since I did spend quite a few centuries in Neverland, I suspect in that time span he's become nothing more than a desperate man tired of serving out his sentence. "

"You mean a punishment?" David questioned.

Killian hesitated before looking up at the folks staring back at him expectantly. "I suppose it's more of a consequence that my father has grown tired of enduring. He first agreed to Captain the Dutchman under the temptation of power and immortality. Over the course of his long sentence, his inability to come ashore and live freely has blackened his heart and purpose as Captain. He has tried to resort to his successors to relieve him of the burden."

"You mean your brother, Liam." Emma delicately stated.

Killian nodded, "When the Dutchman's curse was first set, he agreed on the condition that he'd have a successor to uphold the name should anything happen. The man was obsessed with his name, the title, and wanted to preserve that through blood. To his great surprise, he was given two."

Regina crossed her arms, "If he was looking for immortality in the first place, why has this now become such a burden?"

Killian swallowed before glaring up at her. "You should understand his plight perhaps more so than anyone else here, Queen. Indeed he agreed to the terms, but the price of living forever in power came with the price of solitude and imprisonment within the walls of his own ship. He grew tired of it. He's now a cursed man that has been looking to escape his own fate for many years. Liam's death and my defiance had kept him imprisoned within his own duties for far too long. I'd imagine he now sees Elizabeth as his next option."

"No," Emma interrupted angrily. "We are not going through this again."

Killian sighed, "We can't fight him, Emma. Though he's been at odds with Triton for many centuries, ultimately, he wields power over the sea itself. He has his methods to reach Elizabeth, as we've seen from last night. While we're here, quite literally perched over the ocean, she will be vulnerable to his reach."

"Then we have to leave. Even if it's just for a little while, we have to go inland so we have time to figure out some plan."

"The Summer Palace is an option," Snow offered. "It's located far into the forest, miles away from the nearest coastline."

David nodded reassuringly, "The last time anyone has been to the palace was us on our honeymoon. It would be perfect if you're trying to avoid sparking attention."

Emma turned to Killian, "Well?"

Killian dropped his eyes back down to his hands. "For the time being, it would suffice as a temporary retreat. Now that my father has sought out a new heir, he'll be most insistent on fetching her. Keeping her away from him and the sea might provoke his anger, which could lead to devastation."

Emma sat back in her chair defeated, "Well what else is there to do?"

"I can't guarantee that my speaking with him would do any good, but if anything, perhaps it would offer more information on the situation."

"Absolutely not," David argued. "Pulling a stunt like that would get you killed."

Emma pursed her lips in distraught, "The last thing we need is you getting killed or imprisoned by your crazed pirate father. We're sticking together."

"Emma...-"

"No," she insisted with a firm tone. "We got through Neverland because we stayed together. I'm not risking you or anyone else's life by splitting up now. Let's start by going to the Summer Palace and from there we'll come up with a better plan."

* * *

James and Adam stood side-by-side, positioned with their arrows in line with their target hanging on the wall. James was the first to release, missing the central black dot of his target by a mere inch. Adam assessed his counterpart's success before turning his attention back on his own target. He strengthened his hold on the arrowhead while simultaneously relaxing his stiff shoulder, lowering his aim down by a fracture of a centimeter. The arrow was released out from his hold, swift and strong. A great thud echoed in the downstairs training room as the arrowhead jammed dead center into the black dot.

"Damn," James muttered as he walked over to his target, "every time."

Adam let out a deep sigh before also going to retrieve his arrow. This kind of practice ceased to entertain him. After years of studying the different crafts of archery, there wasn't much to the execution. "Are you sure we can't go up there?"

James smirked while yanking the arrow head out of the cork target. "She's fine, Adam."

"Doesn't it bother you that we're down here shooting targets in her basement and haven't even said a word to her? I mean, she fell into the pier last night." They both walked back to the shooting lines across the room.

"Knowing her she probably jumped in for a midnight swim. It's not like she hasn't done that before," James grinned while resetting his arrow. "Besides she's probably still asleep."

Adam swallowed begrudgingly as he pulled his arrow back. James released his arrow, this time hitting his target on the mark. Adam let his arrow go and uncharacteristically missed the mark by a considerable distance.

James smirked while hitting the back of his friend's shoulder. "Dude, you've got to relax. Our parents wouldn't have let us come back if something serious happened to her last night. Besides it's not like she's alone. Maddie went up there."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Adam raised a brow knowingly.

"It should," a feminine voice called out by the doorway behind them. James and Adam both turned to find Maddie leaning against the open doorway. She perked her manicured brow up at the befuddled expressions of the two boys. Maddie shifted her attention to James, "So much for keeping Adam calm."

James shrugged as he walked over to the rack where the other bows were hung. "It's not my fault the guy's whipped."

Adam rolled his eyes while carelessly setting the weapon down by his feet. He undid the laces along his strong wrist as he walked across the room towards the princess. "Well, how is she?"

"Who?" Maddie grinned up at him tauntingly. Adam's blue eyes narrowed at her frustratingly, the muscles along his jaw flexed. "Easy tiger," she laughed, "Asides from being her normal weird quiet self, Lizzie's fine. She went upstairs to change... again."

As James began to walk over to rejoin the conversation, another set of footsteps echoed down the staircase behind Maddie. All three turned to find Eric approach the doorway.

"Hey you three," He smiled while laying a relaxed hand around his daughter's shoulder. "I hope none of you made any plans for the rest of the day."

"Why?" Maddie looked up at her father suspiciously.

"We're going on a short trip to the Summer's Palace," Eric answered her easily. "After what happened last night, Elizabeth's parents think it would be best to take some time away from the ocean for awhile."

"And we're going?" James struggled to follow.

"Just to see them there. In order to reach the Summer's Palace, they've got to get through Sherwood Forest, which hasn't been the safest road lately."

Adam frowned, "Because of the Lost Boys."

"Yeah," Eric nodded uneasily. "Once they get to the palace they should be safe. It's just the travel we're worried about. Maddie, you don't mind coming for the ride right?"

"Something tells me I don't really have a choice," she grinned bitterly up at Eric.

He chuckled as he stepped back from the group. "Yeah well we still have a little time before we head out. There's some breakfast upstairs in case any of you are hungry. I'd recommend eating a little before we take off."

"Thanks," James nodded politely as Eric turned to take his leave.

When he was far enough up the stairs, Adam dropped his smile. "Sherwood forest? Really?"

"I'm excited," James smirked. "Maybe now I'll finally get my hands on one of those Lost Boys. Think we'll get to see Pan?"

"I doubt it," Maddie answered. "Pan wouldn't be that stupid to try and ambush a caravan of our size."

"He might actually," Adam interjected in a low voice, "considering who we're traveling with."

* * *

Emma pressed her fork through her scrambled eggs to break them into sections. She hadn't had the chance to think about food. It had been a long night and even longer morning. It was only when Emma took her first bite that she realized just how hungry she really was. The room had emptied of its former guests, leaving no one else besides Killian, who was also working on his late breakfast.

After washing down a mouthful of food with her morning coffee, Emma peered up at her husband sitting across from her. He was staring aimlessly at the woodwork of the table.

"Hey," she spoke out to him. He blinked out of his haze and glanced up at her. "This will all work out."

His lower lip rolled into his mouth as his gaze lowered back down to his filled plate of food. "I'm so sorry, love. I never meant to cause so much trouble."

"None of this is your fault," she answered flatly. "We can't control who our parents are or what they do. My only problem is that you never told me. All these years I thought your father was just some crook who abandoned you."

"That much is true," he nodded tentatively. "He was a man that resorted to magic as a solution to all of his problems. He never considered Liam and I as anything more than a security to his title. For that, I've never felt it necessary to bring him up or give him the honor of being known as my father."

Emma tilted her head with raised brows, challenging his pitiful tone when the doors to the dining hall opened. One of the older workmen walked rigidly into the room. "You called for the boy, sir."

"Aye, bring him in," Killian nodded. The workman turned around the doorway and ushered for someone to follow.

* * *

Elizabeth was the first to be told of her family's expedition to the Summer Palace. She didn't want to leave home; however, she could not deny that an uneasiness had settled over her home and all of its residents. 'A temporary retreat' was meant to sound reassuring, though to Lizzie, it was nothing more than fleeing. The concept of running from a problem set a bad taste in her mouth. This kind of solution went against all that her parents taught her. She'd rather stay and confront the problem than run from it.

Sitting uncomfortably in the loveseat by her window was Peter, or rather, _Willy_ in Peter's body, kept silent. He kept his shuffling his attention to different areas along her wallpaper, refusing to initiate any conversation with the aggravated princess as she continued to pack.

After filling the case to the brim, Elizabeth leaned all of her weight over the top to successfully lock down the cover. She let out an exhausted huff before turning her attention over to the Lost Boy. Though she would never say this out loud, Elizabeth found some humor by how innocent Willy made Peter appear. Peter's confidence, which came out in many forms of expression, was replaced with little Willy's uncertain nervousness. His hazel green stare was wide with genuine innocence; a sight Elizabeth did not often see.

"Hey Willy," Elizabeth broke the silence. The lost boy perked his head up at her. "I get that you're all about being faithful to Peter, but if this whole 'switching bodies' thing makes you uncomfortable all you have to do is tell me."

The boy shook his head abruptly, "It's a great honor to be of such service to Peter."

"Really?" Elizabeth crossed her arms, "Because between you and me, I'd get really annoyed with having to switch bodies with him all the time."

"I don't," he answered softly. "Peter has been good to me. Us Lost Boys owe him our loyalty in any way he sees fit."

Elizabeth shook her head with a gentle smile, "No you don't. There's a difference between being loyal and being a servant. You're not in Neverland anymore."

"Thank you, Lizzie." He muttered while lowered his gaze down to his cross-legged lap, "But I really don't mind. Living here as a house worker isn't just for him, it's also for you. You've made Peter very happy; it's clear to someone like me who's been with him for hundreds of years. Us Lost Boys owe you a lot."

* * *

A short second passed before a little boy nervously walked into the dining room. He had his cap gripped tightly in his hand, twisting and turning the fabric in his sweating palms. The little boy looked around before settling his nervous sights on the Captain and Savior sitting at the table.

"Come in, lad," Killian waved for him to walk further into the room. "We just wanted to offer our thanks. If it weren't for your bravery, we might have lost our daughter last night."

The boy blinked and swallowed, still gripping his cap tightly in his hand. "You're welcome, sir."

"I'm still surprised that you got to her in the water so quickly." Emma tilted her head with a cryptic smile, "And how you were able to resuscitate her."

"I was already awake," the boy answered innocently. "I noticed the doors left open in the kitchen so I followed them outside where I saw her walking down the pier."

"Again, we offer our thanks," Killian nodded with an easy smile. "I'm curious, what is your line of work here, lad?"

"I'm an apprentice to your smith, sir. Sometimes when I'm not busy I offer my service for household duties, but mostly I work out in the lower courtyard." The boy looked up at the older employee standing close by his side. "I try to keep busy."

"You've got quite the work ethic," Killian grinned.

"Yes sir," the boy nodded bashfully.

"Well given your noble actions, Emma and I would like to extend some measure of gratitude to you. Is there anything we might offer?"

The boy looked down at his shoes. A great flush of color entered his cheeks. "Well sir, there is one thing."

"Go on," Killian nodded for him to continue.

"Miss Swan has always been good to me here. She has always encouraged me to keep working so that I might one day become a good blacksmith. Since everyone is to be leaving soon, I've been worrying about stopping my apprenticeship and rusting my skills. So if it is at all possible, I wonder if I might accompany the workmen to the Summer Palace? Surely there could be something I could help with."

Emma smiled amusingly, "You're asking for more work?"

"Yes, m'am," the boy nodded eagerly. Emma shot a tickled grin over at Killian, who in turn pursed his lips to keep from chuckling.

"Very well, lad. We'd be more than happy to bring you along. I'm sure Elizabeth will be delighted."

The little boy grinned excitedly, "Oh, thank you, sir! I'll run upstairs now to pack!"

"A moment boy," Killian raised his hand with a curious grin. "What's your name?"

"Willy, sir."

"Just Willy?" Killian questioned with a raised brow.

The boy paused for a moment, curiously hesitant to give the Captain a complete answer. "Willy Turner, sir," the boy finally got to answering.

"Well, Mr. Turner, we'll no doubt see you again shortly." Killian nodded with a warm grin over to the door, encouraging the boy to continue on his route upstairs. The older workman placed a hand on the small boy's back to lead him out of the dining hall. As the boy made it out into the foyer, a mischievous grin stretched up his dimpled cheeks.

* * *

Elizabeth lounged on her bed as she scribbled disjointed thoughts into her journal. Willy kept quiet again, obviously not much for conversation. Since it didn't take long for Elizabeth to ready herself for travel, all that was left was waiting.

_Tap tap, ta-tap tap, tap tap_.

"Yeah," Elizabeth lazily called out with her eyes still glued to her written words. Peter walked into the bedroom in Willy's body. His assured smile was etched over the ten-year-old's physical features.

Without so much as a word, Peter walked over to Willy sitting by the window and laid a firm hand over the boy's shoulders. Elizabeth watched as their eyes flashed white for a brief moment. Willy stumbled back in his own body.

"What happened?" Elizabeth sat up as she closed her journal.

Peter opened his eyes, which were alit in mischief. He smiled up at the little Lost Boy. "Go pack your bags, Willy. You're in for a road trip."

* * *

The road through Sherwood Forest was layered in bumps, rocks, protruding roots and deep ridges, making the travel within the carriage far too uneasy for Maddie's taste. Asides from her mother, Regina and Rumplestiltskin, the other travelers had enough sense to travel on horseback. Emma rode alongside her parents a short distance behind the cart, using their time to catch up on all that they had missed in the other's lives. Though David and Snow were particularly good at keeping in touch with Emma weekly, there were still instances that they had missed out on that they so longed to hear from their daughter. Now that James had gone back to school, their lives as rulers of the Enchanted Forest had become somewhat dull.

Adam and James rode even further back, continuing to share stories from college. Though Adam was naturally a curious scholar, he wasn't completely sold by his Harvard experience. The course load was interesting and engaging; however, it was just too far from home for his liking. Now that James had fully immersed himself in the city life of New York City, New York University had become more appealing since his first year.

Elizabeth started out riding alone ahead of the caravan. When it was clear that she was trying to isolate herself, Killian rode up by her side. They were quiet at first, though eventually broke into easy conversation about small petty topics. He knew she was in no mood to talk about anything substantial or deep. At the same time he also knew it would do her no good getting lost in her thoughts. She needed an outlet, some sort of distraction, which he was always happy to provide for her. So they chatted while riding at a leisurely pace.

The longer she rode on, Elizabeth started to catch the sounds of bird calls being whistled throughout the woods around them. Though she knew they weren't bird calls at all; they were _Lost Boy _calls. Turning her attention back at the top of the carriage, Willy casually sat beside the driver whistling tunes. Though they weren't bird calls, Elizabeth could tell he was communicating back to his brothers hidden in the trees. It was all so fascinating to Elizabeth how the Lost Boys were in tune with each other. It made sense, since they did spend so much time together in Neverland.

She wondered whether her father recognized the bird calls to be the crafted whistles of Lost Boys, since something was definitely putting him on edge. His lazy grin had turned downwards into a unwavering frown.

The bird calls suddenly rose in pitch and tune. The songs sounded somewhat frantic and unusual, unlike anything Elizabeth had heard from them before. Willy cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat, suddenly put on alert.

"Elizabeth," Killian muttered as his hand fell over the handle of his sword. "Go back to the carriage."

"Why, what's wrong?" She slowed her horse down with her hand also on her blade.

"Now," he growled with his eyes trained ahead at the bare road.

Elizabeth reluctantly obliged her father's hastened demand and backed up. Just as Killian opened his mouth to speak a flying curved dagger jammed into his shoulder, throwing him off his horse. His startled horse bucked back in fright, almost stepping over the injured Captain.

"Dad!" Elizabeth shouted as she quickly dismounted from her horse. A cloaked figure hastily ran out into the road and snatched a bag off from Killian's empty saddle. Seeing Elizabeth running at him armed, the bandit took no time in fleeing back into the forest from whence he came.

The adults behind the caravan finally registered Elizabeth's screams. Emma hasted her gait into a gallop up to the front where Killian now lied unconscious and bleeding from his stab wound at a dangerous rate. "Elizabeth, stop!" Emma shouted after her daughter, who sprinted after the thief into the forest.

She paid no attention to her mother's far off shouting. The bandit in front of her kept running despite her gaining on him. Due to the hilly terrain, she lost sight of him as he rounded the top of the hill ahead of her. She lunged up the muddy rocks after him in hot pursuit, though when she reached the top, she was shocked not to find him still running ahead.

There was no way he could lose her that fast. Elizabeth pivoted her head in search of him when all of a sudden, a great force behind her knocked her into the nearby tree. Her sword was knocked out of her grasp.

"Now what would a bonnie lass such as yourself be doing pursuing someone like me?" A low, gruff voice chimed by her ear. The bandit held her wrists together around her back as her face scratched against the rough bark. With his body pressed up against her back, she could smell the pungent aroma of filth and rum.

"Unhand me now," she growled.

"All in good time," his breath on her neck made her shiver. "First things first," he muttered lowly as he opened Killian's stolen satchel. Elizabeth suddenly felt a cool metal band slide over her ring finger. She squirmed to fight off his weight but could not budge his strength.

"No," she whimpered weakly. "Stop, take it off."

"My sincerest apologies to the lady," the bandit chuckled threateningly in Elizabeth's ear, "But I can't be going against my orders." Elizabeth winced as she traced the side of her other finger against the ring situated on her hand. Without looking at it, she could feel where the sea creature slithered and stretched over her finger.

"Now comes the challenge of hauling you back to the ship." Elizabeth sucked in a quick grasp as she anticipated the blow. The bandit laced his fingers through her hair and slammed her head against the tree in an attempt to knock her unconscious. Elizabeth's vision blurred as the splitting pain throbbed through her skull. A warm hot trickling dripped down the side of her head.

Suddenly a great weight knocked the bandit off of Elizabeth. She stumbled around, leaning against the tree as Adam stood back to his feet gripping his longsword. The bandit shuffled back onto his feet as well. His hood fell back from his cloak to reveal a grimy teenage boy, no older than Elizabeth. His eyes were lined in caked grease while a ragged bandana kept his unwashed dreads pulled back from his face.

"Keep off of her, pirate," Adam spat out with a menacing scowl. The bandit grinned boyishly while drawing his own sword from his sheath under his cloak.

Elizabeth glared down at her hand to find the cursed ring glimmering over her finger. She tried to pry to off with as much force as she could muster, though unlike before, she could not move it. It was as if the ring had impossibly shrunk around her thin finger.

Adam was caught off guard by the pirate's brash initiation of combat, immediately having to step into the defense. He deflected the pirate's initial strikes, though was reared too far off balance. With a quick strike and slit, the pirate slashed two gashes into the front of Adam's quadriceps. Adam stumbled to the ground, still with his sword raised despite the pain lined in his wincing features.

Just as the pirate was about to inflict his fatal blow, three other hooded figures dropped down from the trees nearby. The tallest of the hooded figures struck the back of the pirate's head with brute force, knocking him out cold. The pirate limply dropped his sword and fell back to the ground.

Adam gritted his teeth while dropping his head in pain, grasping his bleeding legs. Despite her blurred vision, she still tried to reach out for Adam. Just as Adam looked up to share in a look of desperation, he turned and noticed the tall figure now walking over to Lizzie.

"No," Adam groaned weakly.

The figure knelt down by Elizabeth's side silently. When he pulled his hood back, Elizabeth felt her entire body relax. "Felix," she muttered.

Felix gently dragged his finger over Elizabeth's bleeding forehead. "Let's get you out of here," he answered before picking Elizabeth up into his arms with ease. Her vision continued to blur as the blood kept trickling out from her open wound.

Right on the verge of black out Elizabeth heard Felix's fading voice mutter, "Take care of that."


	6. Chapter 6

She had been tossing and turning in her sleep for hours. When Felix first carried her into camp, she suffered from significant head trauma done by the pirate. While the two other Lost Boys dragged the stiff, unconscious criminal to his cage, Felix paced towards Peter's tree house with the girl lying limp in his arms.

Sitting at the base of the tree's roots, Peter shot to his feet at first glimpse of her mangled form. From afar, Peter feared her wounds were of greater span than they actually were. The crusted brown trail of blood that ran down Elizabeth's neck suggested the blood loss to be fatal. When Felix laid her down along the forest floor and assured Pan that her wounds did not extend beyond a blow to the head, Peter's initially-felt anxiety simmered; however, that's not to say he still wasn't furious.

Felix climbed the ladder leading up to his leader's grandiose tree abode as Peter agilely carried her in his arms. After settling Lizzie under the pulled blankets of his bed, Pan gave succinct orders to Felix to assist him with her care. With a careful wave of his hand, Peter mended the crack along the side of her skull as Felix washed the blood off of her skin.

All that then could be done was leave her to sleep off her unconsciousness. Peter gave Felix the order to guard Elizabeth as he took his leave. With Elizabeth safely tucked away to rest, Peter had every intention of meeting the man responsible for inflicting such wounds.

Sitting stoically outside the open doorframe of Peter's bed house, Felix contently shut his eyes and listened to his surroundings for any trace of noise. He always had a natural skill in hearing. Rather than keep watch with his eyes, Felix was a predator that would measure the opportune moment by way of sound. It was impossible to sneak up on him.

Hours passed before Elizabeth let out her first soft whine. Her body weakly stirred beneath the heavy sheets before she rolled her face down into the single feather pillow. Her eyes remained shut to ward off the sharp rays of morning light that leaked through the window.

She was still somewhat caught in her dream state; standing by the edge of a jutting cliff, feeling the ocean spray tickle every inch of her exposed skin while the raging surf crashed into deep tide pools down below.

Elizabeth took a deep breath against the feather pillow, letting Peter's scent fill her nostrils and pull her out of her sleep. She peeked her eyes open, then lazily shut them to let out another light sigh of discontent.

A moment passed before Elizabeth's eyes shot open, now with full awareness of the precariousness of her situation. Short glimpses of memory came back to her: the knife plunged lethally deep into her father's shoulder, Adam reaching bloody hands out to her while bleeding profusely from his wounds, the blurring image of Felix kneeling over her and the _pirate_. The image of the pirate scathed her mind like a scarring nightmare. She saw past the persona he attempted to convey through the crusted eyeliner, greasy dreadlocks, calloused hands and tattered clothing; he was much younger than his appearance suggested. His age was perhaps twenty years at most; however, there was a savagery, an unforgiving darkness that festered in his mischievous gaze.

She fought back the shiver that resonated up her spine. Peering around the room nervously, it took her a moment to recognize that it was indeed Peter's and not some barbaric pirate's. She had only visited the Lost Boys' camp on special occasions, all of which were during the darkest hours of night. Even then she never had the opportunity to actually _see_ his room for what it was. Whenever she came up here her attention had always been preoccupied on, well, Peter.

The floor was littered with leaves; brown remnants of dead crisps from past seasons collected in the corners of the room while the fresher green leaves scattered all over. Asides from a weathered end table in the far corner, Peter's room was bare of any decorative furnishings. She noticed the converging tree branches that grew and jutted in and out of the tree house walls freely. It truly seemed as if the tree house was an extension of the tree; a growth that had been naturally fostered for Peter on its own.

Despite the heavy scent that Elizabeth quickly identified as Peter, which laced his pillow and bedspread, the sheets were stiff from a lack of use. Peter never slept here; he spent most of his nights with Elizabeth tucked in her bed chamber. This was a place for him to come and think more than anything. Situated high in the forest canopies above the campsite, this was the one blacklisted location that all Lost Boys new not to trespass on without permission.

"Welcome back," Elizabeth heard Felix's low monotone voice mutter as he took his first few steps through the door frame. Letting out another tired huff, Elizabeth turned over to face him. Still shrouded under the shadow of his overarching hood, Felix fashioned an easy smirk. "You gave us a good scare, Princess."

"Hey," she muttered softly. "Haven't seen you in awhile."

"You haven't been here in awhile," he answered easily while turning his attention down at the prepared breakfast sitting by the far side of Peter's bed.

"Where's Peter?"

Felix shrugged, "Most likely still torturing the pirate that did your forehead in."

Elizabeth shot her attention down at her left hand which still bore the dreaded immovable ring. The two inlaid sapphire eyes of the monstrous welded sea creature glared back at her, conveying a chilling unspoken promise. She swallowed and looked back up at Felix. "He's dangerous, why would you bring him here?"

He chuckled, "Easy. The boys have seen worse than a lone hungover pirate. He won't be getting anywhere near you, just so long as you stay put."

"What about Adam?"

"He was taken back with your father," Felix dropped his glare back down to the glass of water he had begun to pour for Elizabeth.

"My father," Elizabeth repeated in a low, nervous whisper. The memory then pierced her forethoughts of her father falling from his horse; warm sputters of red already staining the collar of his white undershirt; the cracked wooden handle and first centimeter of the blade glistening in bright red, jutting out from his shoulder; his face scrunched and contorted in immeasurable agony. Elizabeth blinked, "What happened? Where is he?"

"There's not much to tell," Felix answered choosing his words very carefully. "They took him back where there are more expert hands to help. We don't know all that much." He offered her a cup of water, "Here."

She shook her head, "No I'm not really thirsty."

"Pan insisted that I make you drink some water once you awoke. You lost a lot of blood."

She sighed before reluctantly accepting the cup. Sure enough after taking her first sip, Elizabeth realized just how thirsty she actually was. She welcomed back another larger gulp of water to wash back the clumping mucus that lined the back of her throat. Felix shuffled back towards the door when he heard excited footsteps scurry up the ladder.

"Elizabeth, is she really up there?" She heard a younger spirited voice call out to Felix.

"You're not supposed to be up here. Pan's forbidden it," Felix barked down the tree trunk.

"Who is it?" Elizabeth called out as she repositioned herself up against the head board.

"Lizzie it's us!" Another voice called up to her. "Nicholas and Devon!"

"Go back down to wait for Pan's orders," Felix growled impatiently. "Arousing Pan's fury now would be most unwise."

"Oh c'mon Felix, he'll never know. We just want to say hi," one of the smaller boys pleaded. "Just for a quick second?"

"I won't tell you two again. Beat it." Felix warned.

"Felix, it's alright. They can come up." Elizabeth protested lightly.

Felix turned to her with a disapproving frown, "He's given me orders not to let anyone up here. I won't make exceptions for anyone."

"Really?" She raised a pouting brow. "My safety won't be put in jeopardy by two little Lost Boys."

"We're not little!" One of the Lost Boys pouted from the ladder.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes with an lazy grin, "Just let them up."

"But Pan said...-"

"_I said_, Felix, let them up," she snapped with an uncharacteristic firmness. Felix sucked in a deep sigh before turning back to the walkway outside the treehouse door. Devon's nose hung over the edge of the boarded panel where the ladder started, silently watching the conversation take place between them.

"Just for a minute," Felix grumbled disapprovingly as the two Lost Boys scurried up the ladder. They hurried into the room and jumped onto the bed beside Lizzie.

She giggled and gave them both excited hugs before pulling away to get a better look. "Damn, you guys have grown!" she muttered with an exasperated smile. "The last time I saw the both of you, you were the shortest of the group."

"Well it _has_ been almost three months since you were last here," Nicholas reminded her bitterly.

"Still," Elizabeth half-laughed. "Keep it up and you'll be taller than Felix."

"Out of the two of us, I'm definitely taller," Devon smirked at Nicholas. "Even when we're grown-ups, he'll always be the pipsqueak."

"I am most certainly not!" Nicholas growled with tightly crossed arms.

Elizabeth smiled with an easy laugh at the still overly energetic Lost Boys. "Glad to see that you guys at least still bicker like little boys."

* * *

The prison cells were stationed a considerable distance from camp. Even in the later hours of the morning, the clearing was dark from the thick density of the overhead canopy. The pirate had been dragged out of his cell and tied to a bare wooden post. He struggled to raise his head to meet the hooded glare staring back at him from a short distance away.

"Perhaps you didn't hear right the first time," Peter's loud authoritative tone demanded the pirate's attention. "What exactly were the orders given to you by your Captain?"

The pirate chuckled apathetically, "Why would I tell you anything?"

"It's actually quite simple," Peter curled his finger up towards the pirate. The grimy prisoner suddenly let out a mangled grunt of sheer agony as he felt one of his fingers dismembered from his hand bound on the other side of the post. He felt warm splutters of blood leak over his grasped palms where his severed arteries continued to pump blood.

The pirate's severed finger now sat in Peter's grasp, leaking dribbles of crimson down the Lost Boy's wrist. "You have two options, Pirate. Answer my questions and you get your finger back. Continue to keep silent and you'll lose more, well, let's say _cherished_ attachments."

The pirate scowled at the Lost Boy's blackened grin. He swallowed a heavy gulp of pooled saliva before dropping his gaze back down to the dirt floor. "I was sent to do my Captain's biddings. It seemed Miss Swan needed some assistance in putting that pretty ring back on her little finger." Peter tightened his furious grasp around the warm dismembered finger.

"Why would Davy Jones send you through all this trouble if Elizabeth refuses to keep it on?"

The pirate finally flashed his first cocky smirk, "Not this time, laddie. No one can take that ring off her now."

"It was simple enough for me." The lie rolled easily off his tongue, perfected by his long-devoted art of trickery.

The pirate squinted up confusedly, "That's not possible. The ring can't be removed, not without the consent of the Captain."

"Sure it can," Peter shrugged with a cheeky grin. "I recall her taking it off the first night it was given to her. Why would now be any different?"

"Davy Jones gave her the choice the first time to see what she'd chose. It seems family means a great deal to her, much more than he anticipated." His eyes brightened in confidence, "My Captain's patience has however run its course. He'll be coming for her soon enough, and it doesn't matter where her Mummy and Daddy try and hide her. Land or sea, he'll find her and drag her back to the ship right where she ought to be."

"Elizabeth has no place on Dutchman with your lot." Peter kneeled down to be at level with the cowering pirate, "She'll remain here, by my side where she belongs."

"Ah see that's where you're wrong," the pirate grinned. "The lady may act like a princess but she's got a sort of fire in her that's yet to be satisfied here on land. She's born to Captain the Dutchman, it's in her blood."

"Is your Captain so unaware that he has yet to acknowledge his second son?"

"You mean to Killian Jones?" The pirate scoffed, "My Captain has no intention of bestowing his title to the likes of that nuisance. The man's emotions have turned him softer than driftwood."

"He'd rather bestow it to a headstrong eighteen year old girl?"

"But you see, she's much more than that. She's got the blood of Davy Jones and the Savior. Give her a few magic tricks and just imagine the fun she'd cause," the pirate hesitated, "In fact she should start to feel it right about now."

Peter's wide glare darkened; his bright green eyes blazed down at the pirate. "And what, _exactly_, should she be feeling?" His voice came out as a menacing whisper, twisted enough to rouse the pirate's nerves.

"All that her Granddaddy has bestowed upon her. She'll get stronger and bolder with every passing hour. Soon all that will be on her mind is the sea and getting as close as she possibly can to it." He leaned forward towards Peter's hostile countenance. His voice hushed, "The insatiable craving will take over all else that once mattered to her, even her feeling towards you. There won't be a soul alive that will reign her in."

Peter snatched the front of the pirate's shabby brown vest, pulling him threateningly close. "Clearly you haven't heard of me."

The sound of a snapping twig interrupted the brutality promised in Peter's furious green glare. He snapped his attention over to pathway where a smaller Lost Boy shuffled nervously. "Felix's sent me to tell you that Elizabeth's awake. Also Willy's come back with a status report."

Peter growled impatiently while turning his infuriated gaze back to the Pirate. He wordlessly released his grip of the pirate's vest, dropping him down back against the pole.

The pained prisoner nodded up at Peter's bloodstained grip, "A deal's a deal, laddie. I played your little game. Return what's mine."

"I've got one last question for you," Peter took a step back with a more composed, hardened glare. "You mentioned that you were sent to enact your Captain's _biddings_. What else did he ask of you that you failed to accomplish?"

The pirate leaned his head back against the post with a cocky grin, "Who said I failed? My Captain wasn't fond of the influences distracting dear Elizabeth, influences that are a tid bit too knowledgable of his past and relations."

"You were ordered to kill Elizabeth's father," Peter reiterated coldly.

"Aye," the pirate grinned cheekily. "It seems Davy Jones is rather eager to give his littlest son one final lecture before sending him on his merry way to the locker."

Peter nodded solemnly while suddenly turning to take his leave, clearly having heard all he needed to hear.

"Oi! Wait! You said you'd give me back my finger!"

The Lost Boy looked down at his bloodied grasp, then over his shoulder to the pirate staring impatiently back up at him. "How right you are, a deal's a deal." Peter apathetically chucked the disjointed finger down into the dirt beside the prisoner's feet. "Till next time, pirate."

* * *

The Lost Boys were congregated by their breakfast slivers of deer meat, which was smoking over their blazing campfire. Sitting amongst them was Elizabeth. It was somewhat surreal to see her in such a primitive state especially in the light of day. Even when she spent time with the Lost Boys in Neverland, she had never been with the _entire_ group all at once. Her tousled golden curls, dirt-marked cheeks, and tattered clothing made her out to look like one of them, though albeit in a more angelic form.

The boys shuffled out of Peter's way as he eagerly made his way over to her. Elizabeth felt a surge of relief when she caught sight of him. Without saying any words of greeting, Peter enveloped his arms around her while burying his face into her wavy golden curls.

"I'm okay. Really, I am." She murmured into his ear before pressing her nose down the warmth of his collar.

"Pan," Felix interrupted Elizabeth and Peter's embrace with a stern tone. "We've got some news." Standing behind Felix, Willy poked his head out to look up at his leader.

"Go on then, what have you got for us?" Peter raised his question harshly while entwining his fingers naturally into Elizabeth's grasp.

The boy swallowed then turned his nervous fluttering gaze to Elizabeth. "It's the Captain."

Peter immediately sensed the chill course through Elizabeth's grasp. "There was something laced in the blade that stabbed him. It's unlike any poison the kingdom's come across. They've tried everything and everyone's magic, even that of Reul Ghorm and the Savior. Nothing has been able to even seal his wound, let alone cure it. At the rate that the poison's traveling, I'd say he doesn't have much more than a few hours left."

The camp went silent. Many of the eyes subtly peered up to judge Elizabeth's reaction, which initially was that of stone. She didn't absorb Willy's message until he stopped, offering nothing more but the sting of frank silence to echo the reality of his words.

She finally sucked in a stuttered gasp of air. "Are you telling me that my father's going to die?"

Willy didn't answer her. Instead he pulled his eye contact away to the ground. "Willy, answer me," she growled. At that precise second, the campfire flickered in tune with Elizabeth's biting rage. Thankfully not a single Lost Boy took notice of this, none except Peter.

"There's not much hope. It doesn't help that you're missing. Whenever he's conscious, his main worries are about you and whether they've found you yet. He hasn't woken back up in a while though."

Peter curled his finger delicately in Elizabeth's grasp, running his soothing touch along the inside of her palm. "No," he broke the silence amidst the group. "I will not allow this."

"Nothing can be done," Willy answered. "It's no use, Pan. Everyone's tried; Emma, the Blue Fairy, Tink, Regina, even Rumplestiltskin."

Peter bit his lip while tightening his grip around Elizabeth's shaking fingers, identifying the horror and pain already welling in her widening gaze. Regardless of his personal indifference towards the Captain, he couldn't bear the thought of what his death might do to Elizabeth. With that ring now immovably fashioned along her finger, Peter knew this would be the perfect breaking point. This would drive Elizabeth over the edge, which is exactly what Davy Jones needed. And once lost, she'd be lost forever.

Under no circumstances was Peter was about to let that happen.

"They haven't tried me," Peter answered darkly. He peered out to the crowd of Lost Boys around him, and then back to Elizabeth, whose stone-hard expression quelled the sensational fear she had of possibly losing her father. Once he let go of her hand, Peter took a step into the center of the group. "If Captain Davy Jones wants to play, then by all means, let's play."

_And this was most certainly not a game he intended on losing. _


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is twice as long as a normal chapter because I owed you all for taking so long to update.**

* * *

"Have you done all that I told you?" Peter inquired to Felix, his eyes continually darting from the lost boy back to the campsite where Elizabeth blankly stared into the fire.

Felix nodded with tense hesitance, "The necessary preparations have been made. All that's left is deciding where the girl falls into all this."

"She doesn't," Peter answered firmly. "She's not to set a foot outside this camp while I'm away. I'm leaving it to the boys to keep her here until I return."

Felix scoffed lightly, "You honestly think the group of younger lost boys will keep Elizabeth from running off on a last-ditch rescue mission?"

"The purpose of these trials is to lure Elizabeth out. The pirate captain wants her to feel the loss of her father. It will be the ultimate spark that would break her." He looked back to Elizabeth again, who hadn't moved an inch. "She's far enough away here to withstand the pirate's reach."

"And what of her father? What if he can't be revived?"

Peter smirked smugly, "He can't."

Felix titled his head with a disconcerted frown, "but you said..-"

"I said her family hasn't tried me, _my way_, Felix," Peter pulled the short sword belonging to the captive pirate out from under his cloak. He extended the weapon towards the confused lost boy. "Have another look for yourself."

Felix studied the weapon intently, observing the thin trace of black residue along the sharpened edge of the blade. "The toxin," he looked back up at Peter. "What about it?"

"Does it look the least bit familiar to you?"

Felix studied the residue for a moment before it hit him, "Dreamshade."

"Close but not quite," Peter took back the blade. He grinned admiringly down at the black toxin, "Tell me Felix. What do you know about the legend of Davy Jones."

"Not much besides him being a pirate."

Peter chuckled easily, still keeping his attention on the welded weapon. "I'd say it's time you brushed up on your histories. This particular poison is an extract of Dreamshade. It has been crafted to suit Davy's purposes of keeping the men aboard his ship from ever leaving. You see, Felix, once a man swears his soul to servitude aboard the Dutchman there's no escape unless the Captain deems it so."

"How is it that this poison came from Neverland? I don't recall ever coming across salvagers."

"None of the lost boys were made aware of their presence while they were on the island. They arrived to Neverland led by false pretenses; they were to fetch the Dreamshade for their King to use as a remedy of sorts. There were only two men – one of which rightfully returned to Neverland years later."

"Captain Hook," Felix began to piece the story together.

"It was lieutenant at the time, actually. He was there to escort his elder brother, the gallant Captain Liam Jones, on their voyage to retrieve traces of the poison. Unfortunately for the both of them," Peter looked back down at the blade, "they disregarded my warnings and tested the threat of the poison to their own skin."

"You're saying his brother died?" Felix muttered in surprise.

"I'm saying that Captain Davy Jones got all that he wanted in the arrangement, asides from a dead heir." He slid the weapon back beneath his cloak into his leather belt. "The Captain won't survive the night while he's off the Dutchman. Much like how his brother died out of the realm of Neverland, he won't withstand the poison beyond the interior of his father's ship."

"May I ask what your plan of action then is? Elizabeth won't react well to news of her father's death."

"No she won't," Peter agreed solemnly. "Which is precisely why she can't be a part of this. I'm not going to her father's aid; He's already a lost cause. Our next course of action to seek out the Dutchman." He spoke nonchalantly, "I trust you haven't forgotten the technique of stowing onboard a pirate ship since Neverland?"

"No, I haven't," Felix grinned. "But are you sure we're be able to find the vessel? The Dutchman is not known for coming to port all that often."

"The ship is closer than you think." Peter dropped his gaze with a quizzical grin. "But not to worry. Once I find the location of the vessel tonight, all you'll have to do is follow the orders you've been given." He placed an assuring hand over Felix's shoulder as he took another step to walk back.

"Peter," Elizabeth called out softly from a distance.

Momentarily disregarding Elizabeth's call, Peter continued to lead the lost boy towards the far side of the clearing near the entrance to the boys' underground hideout. "Keep to your orders, Felix. Have your group of boys ready to leave within the hour."

"Peter!" He heard Elizabeth yell back at him with a louder, more insistent tone.

"And be sure to stay off the roads."

"_Peter_!" Her raised voice finally cut through the boys' conversation. Elizabeth's cheeks were flushed in emotion; her breathing was ragged. Her hand was held over her heart, pained fingers pressed into the skin to manually soothe her racing pulse. He noticed the subtle shaking of her legs as she stumbled back onto the blunt edge of the campfire log. "Peter, I can't breathe."

Peter left Felix's side at once and paced across the clearing to where Elizabeth keeled over her knees.

She swallowed the knot forming at the base of her throat, dropping her gaze down to Peter's hand which immediately clasped around her shaking fingers over her chest. He glared up at her flustered expression, feeling the disconcerting aura of dark magic radiating off her skin.

"Elizabeth," he muttered lowly. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting her jaw hang open to gasp a hastened breath of air. The fire over the campfire flickered in sync with the girl's strained breathing. "Elizabeth, look at me."

When she finally looked up, her flustered gaze was met with his wide, concrete glare. It was impossible for her to avert from his focused intensity.

Without a word, he reached up and dragged his thumb along her hairline, letting his knuckle linger over her warmed cheek. Despite the innocent weariness that was still present in her wide sea blue gaze, there was a terrible essence now lingering in her being; a harnessed force of dark magic lingering within her that Peter could no longer try to ignore. At the very moment Elizabeth was shaken with a light tremble, Peter felt the magic spike. The campfire then sparked. "Peter," she shuddered. "Peter, what's happening to me?"

He didn't answer her – rather, he traced his hand down from her cheek down the side of her neck, feeling the dark magic pulse through her veins. "You were thinking of your father."

"Yeah," Elizabeth mumbled confusedly. "What else would preoccupy my thoughts right now? He's dying." The campfire spiked again, causing Felix to take a few steps back from the heightening flames.

"You're afraid," he stated plainly. "You don't believe your father is strong enough to withstand his wounds."

She flinched back from his touch, sea blue eyes now alighted like two vibrant electric pools. "I asked you for help, not criticism."

Felix gawked down at Elizabeth, in utter shock of her abrupt shift of temperance. Though remaining silent, he felt uncomfortable to be in their presences unsure of which was more dangerous at the present moment. "You're letting your emotions get the better of you," Peter retorted. "You mustn't be so weak."

"You're saying I'm the one at fault?" Her eyes narrowed as she stood to her feet. Peter kept a firm hold of her hand as she scowled down to where he remained sitting. "With everything happening, you really have the audacity to say that to me?"

"Take a seat before you cause a fire."

Her nostrils flared, her eyes widened in her blinding rage. The campfire behind her continued to grow, the loose sparks began to fly over the campground. Felix held an arm out to usher the other lost boys back. "Don't tell me what to do. I'm not a child!"

"Then perhaps it's time to stop acting like one," he bit back with a venomous tone.

Peter knew he was baiting her. He was testing her limits; he wanted to see how far this could go; he needed to have a gist of how powerful Elizabeth was truly becoming.

The fire suddenly began stretching out of the confined rock bonfire area, lining a perimeter around Elizabeth and Peter.

"Look at what you're doing," he growled. "Your anger, fear and sadness are defining you, Lizzie." Peter stood to his feet, hands still tightly wound in Elizabeth's sweating grasp. Random lines of fire spouted out from the base of the campground, some of the flying embers caught on the tips of the overarching trees. "You honestly think throwing an angry tantrum is the solution?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed icily; the menacing darkness of her black magic finally revealed itself to Peter through her threatening glare. One of the smaller lost boys was suddenly thrown back in the line of a stretching flame. He let out an agonizing cry while grasping the scalded flesh of his burned wrist.

Seeing all that he needed to witness, Peter hastily brought both hands up to either side of her face. He pulled her to his lips fast enough to leave no room for struggle on her part. The growl that initially resonated up from her throat into his mouth was soon soothed by the hum of Peter's voice. Utilizing his own magic, Peter used the kiss as a means to forcibly suck back the animosity dripping from her tongue, freeing her from her own pain. Another moment passed of crashing lips before she finally came down from the storm – his strong grip over her temples and commanding dominance of his lips against hers became a gentle stroke down her arm and soft mould to her mouth.

She pulled back slowly; her breath ragged and tense. Peter glared back at her and waited until she could open her eyes to actually look at him. When she did, it was clear the anger had soothed and in its place was the wrecked devastation of sadness and immediate regret. Her gaze darted from Peter's, around to where the lost boys were held back by Felix. The hooded boy was still lying on the ground, silent tears rolling down his dirtied cheeks. Elizabeth's bottom lip trembled. "I'm," she began. "I'm sorry."

Wide-eyed, Peter remained silently fixated on her. He was still using his magic as a means to forcibly soothe her, to keep the dark emotions back from resurfacing.

She turned her attention back up at Peter, leaning her face into the hand that remained over her cheek. She frowned with pleading watery eyes, "Peter, I'm sorry."

Maintaining his hardened glare, Peter abruptly shook his head. His thumb traced over the metal ridge of the cursed ring wrapped tightly around her finger. "You're not the one that needs to apologize for this."

She looked back down to the lost boy struggling to stand back on his feet. "I'm so sorry," she muttered breathily.

Peter traced a finger along her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "I can't bring you with me near the ocean, Lizzie, not while you grandfather is so intent on taking possession of you. Though it seems leaving you here alone is no longer an option."

"You have to go."

He shook his head, "Not while you're unstable."

"I can keep it together for a few hours."

He glared at her intently, now suddenly reluctant to even let her out of his sights, "What if you can't? What if all this happens again while I'm gone?"

"I can," she answered flatly. With an easy grasp of her necklace chain, Elizabeth let the sparkling pendent dangle over her fisted palm. "But if not, you'd be the first to know." He hesitated, still baring signs of uneasiness over his stubborn furrowed brow. Letting out an exasperated huff, Elizabeth leaned in and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. "Please Peter," she whispered. "I need you to help my father."

A moment passed before Peter begrudgingly wrapped his hand around her waist and held her there against him. His voice softened into a low whisper, "Swear to me you'll remain here, safe."

She nodded, the roots of her golden hair brushing against his ivory skin. "I will."

* * *

A ten minutes after Peter flew off from camp, Felix took a small party of his finest hunters out into the woods. Elizabeth was left with just a few of the other lost boys that patrolled the campground. She was grateful in a strange way; the absence of all the boys allowed the soothing silence to fill her with a natural lull.

Though she did feel the occasional spike of rage or devastated depression, she recognized it now as just being a side-effect of her newfound magical strength. It felt more like a severe case of PMS, which lucky for her, she had enough experience controlling.

As the evening darkened into nightfall, she watched the stars alight in the sky from atop Peter's rooftop. Elizabeth silently identified constellations and waited for the swift strike of light from the occasional falling star. It was a calming routine that distracted her from her worries.

All was silent until she fell asleep. Then the dreams returned.

* * *

Killian jerked out of his sleep violently. Two hands immediately fell over his chest and kept him pressed to the mattress. An ice-cold sharp pain shot through his body the second he moved out of his nightmare, making Killian aware yet again of the fatal knife wound along his shoulder blade. His initial movements were weak and sent tingles through his body. His vision of the room spiraled from the lack of blood running to his head. After an incoherent slur of grunts and huffs, he finally managed to utter out Emma's name in a pleading whimper.

"Shh, it's okay," Emma's voice whispered in through one ear and out the other. Her cool hand stroked over his brows moistened in sweat. Closing his eyes to soothe the sickening view of a spinning room, Killian let his jaw hang open to sate his breathlessness. He felt the mattress sink as Emma slowly leaned in to brush a kiss along his cheekbone.

"Emma." Even in his weakened state her name rolled off his lips in an endearing slur, a lulled whisper. "Elizabeth."

He felt her hand freeze over his heated skin, making it clear that their daughter had yet to be found. She was still missing, perhaps even dead. He leaned his head back into the sinking pillow in defeat. The wincing wrinkle of his closed eyes was the only sign of the physical pain he silently endured. "She's not here."

"We will find her."

"Blood," he mumbled, "there was blood, Emma. The lad, he mentioned boys under hoods... Emma, she's with them... with the Lost Boys."

Emma hesitated, fully aware of the reality of their daughter's predicament. "Yeah," she nodded, "which is how I know she's not dead."

"And what of Pan?" his voice lowered into a protective scowl. Though it pained him to speak, he fought the stabbing aches to articulate his dwelling fear. "He would not hesitate before slaying her just for sport."

Emma soothed her thumb over his clammy hand, which she suspected had gone limp from his loss of blood. "I don't think he would," she answered delicately.

"Emma, he's..."

"Shh, stop," she pleaded in a gentle whisper. "She'll be alright. I promise you, she's okay..."

If Killian had his strength, he would have pursued the disagreement further with his notions of the boy being nothing but vile. Emma didn't fault him for his doubt; everyone, including her, had reason to despise the boy. However, Killian physically could not keep a grip on his argumentative sentiment; he was too weak. Emma's softened gaze spoke measures of comfort and assurance that surprisingly dulled the ache Killian felt from his daughter's absence.

He fell back asleep after releasing a deep sigh of furrowed worries. Emma frowned, knowing that in another hour's time, he'd awake unknowingly asking the same questions and baring the same concerns. She smoothed back the dark locks of hair that stuck over his temple. His health was declining exponentially. What initially seemed like a quick work of magic became an unsolvable nightmare. Killian and Adam were infected with a toxin unfamiliar to all magical beings in the kingdom and were now both withering away fast. Killian lost most of his sense of awareness after just a few hours. His wound was much more direct than Adam's slit to the legs, so the effects ravaged through him much faster. Now his thoughts were reduced to nothing beyond fretting about Elizabeth's uncertain whereabouts and the agony that was becoming more and more evident along Emma's features every time he awoke.

Everyone around Emma kept their distance in fear that anything would trigger her to an emotional breakdown. It took _a lot_ to shatter Emma Swan, as everyone knew, however this would most certainly take the case.

Even in unconscious rest, the anxiety was still laced over Killian's facade. There was no wrestling Killian's woes in regards to Peter Pan. His endeavors to rescue Henry all those years ago gave Emma perspective on her husband's relationship with the boy; however, when Peter took Elizabeth to the shadowed island, Emma witnessed a new revulsion take root in the pit of Killian's core. Peter had rendered Killian powerless of comforting his daughter after her return from Neverland. He was the first boy that had such an effect on Elizabeth and Killian could not stomach his inability to soothe her first strains of heart break. It was clear to everyone that her experience with Pan had changed and scarred her on several levels, many of which Killian could not begin to understand.

Despite the animosity she still felt for Pan in regards to Henry and Elizabeth's abduction to Neverland, Emma was hesitant to freely speak her mind about the boy. There mere thought of him raised suspicions in Emma's heart that she did not wish to acknowledge, especially in front of Killian.

She knew that Peter did not leave Elizabeth alone after their parting in Neverland. Despite the effort that Elizabeth put into hiding the affair, it was all too easy to notice the difference in behavior; the abrupt departure out of dinners; the flush of her cheeks after reentering a room and sudden taste for scarves that hid the purple markings along her neck.

Emma put the pieces together gradually when the signs became _too_ subtle, too well-crafted for any mediocre teenage boy.

The first sign was the window. Elizabeth left it open every night before she went to bed, though by the time Emma came in to wake her at the early hours of dawn, it had always found its way shut.

Next was the sound of pipes. During the restless nights of yelling between a very frustrated Killian and unyielding Elizabeth, Emma would often rise to her feet from bed and make her way across the hall to Elizabeth's door, ready to knock, though suddenly distracted by the sound of pipes being played, purring a lullaby on the other side of the door The hushed melody would fall chillingly silent the second Emma gripped the knob of the door to barge in.

The third was her constant fretting with that necklace. The charming emerald pendent Elizabeth was given on Christmas from Tinkerbell soon became the focus of her distracted attention. Before she was given the necklace, Elizabeth didn't bother with the trifles of wearing jewelry. However, now Elizabeth seemed to depend on it whenever she seemed the least bit troubled or stressed. She would fiddle with it, touch the sides of it and stare with a quizzical expression of longing and _somehow_ the pendant had a way of calming her, soothing her, so that when she revert her attention back to where she needed to be, she would do so with a more pleasant manner.

When Emma was sure of her suspicions, her first instinct was to immediately put an end to it. She wanted to tell Killian and let him go off on her like a protective watchdog, fall back on his notion of fatherly duties and keep his daughter at arm's length. She wanted to keep her daughter close and out of the realm of getting her heart broken a second time. However despite all her considerations, she kept silent. She told herself that when she actually caught her daughter in the act, she wouldn't act off suspicions and raise the matter to Killian without certainty. So she waited and continued to watch her daughter go on becoming happier with her present-day life. In the span of a short few months, Elizabeth was glowing with unspoken contentment that no one could assign a reason for. She was happy; it was a sort of happiness that neither Killian nor Emma could provide to her, and in the base of Emma's gut, she knew she didn't have the heart to end it.

So she kept quiet and allowed _whatever was going on_ continue under the averted notice.

Emma sat by Killian's side and continued to think of her daughter and of the hope that she might still be alive. The minutes ticked on in silence, the only sounds in the room came from Killian's ragged breaths. Emma's distracted mental state was suddenly interrupted by a light squeeze of her hand.

"Emma," Killian muttered weakly, his eyes still closed to ward of the strains of light on his eyes. "Emma."

"Hey," she leaned in closer. "I'm still here."

"Emma, my love," he began in a strained broken voice. "This won't continue on for much longer."

She swallowed with hardened gaze, "You're going to be okay. We are going to figure this out."

He smiled grimly, "No, we won't."

"Killian...-"

He snapped his eyes open up at her. Beneath the clouded haze of welling moisture, the insistence in his sea blue glare still made Emma's heart skip. "There is no escaping this. The toxin will claim my life, as well as Adam's." Emma felt his thumb struggle to smooth over the tremble of her finger. "All that matters now is keeping Elizabeth safe." He took a strained breath as another surge of pain throbbed out from his shoulder. Emma bit her lip to suppress her urge to let out her screaming protests. "There may yet be a solution. Let the sea claim all that's left of our bodies and then, perhaps, we might be taken to my father."

"No," Emma's voice hardened. He pursed his lips together in a forced frown meant to conceal the emotional agony ravaging his being.

"We've no other option, love. Adam and I have both been slain by the hand of a pirate. If laid out to sea, we're qualified to be ferried to the Dutchman for our sentence. My father's already decided this fate for me. I must go to him and perhaps then, I might strike a compromise for our daughter."

Emma felt her bottom lip tremble against the pressure she exerted to keep her mouth shut. Her vision of his features blurred. "I'm not going to lose you..."

"I'll keep watch over Adam. He won't be..." He paused, suddenly struck by a new searing pain that pulsed out from his bloodied wound. He dropped his head back against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.

Emma shuffled to her feet to lean over him. "Killian," she brought her hand back up to his heated cheek. He gritted her name through his teeth as the pain grasped ahold of him.

A disturbingly outsetting shrieking suddenly echoed out from across the hall in the room where Adam was, the voice belonging none other to Belle.

Doors started slamming outside of the hallway; footsteps approached their bedroom. Emma kept her nervous stare focused down on Killian's pained expression, "Fight this. You can fight through this." Before she knew it, Emma's voice had broken into hysterical sobs as she watched the tightened lines of his face relax into eternal rest. "Please," she placed her other hand on the other side of his cheek. "You can't leave me, I need you!"

The door to the bedroom burst open. Hastened footsteps ran over to Emma's side. Before she could look up to recognize who had come, two hands were placed on both arms to gently lead her away from Killian's paled corpse. "No!" The hands continued to gently pull her away from Killian's now lifeless facade, completely devoid of all his former emotion.

"Mom!" Emma heard Henry shout, his mature voice breaking through her hysterical whimpers. He finally turned her around in his arms, enveloping her a tight embrace to shield her from the sight of Killian's body. "I'm here," he muttered while letting his own gaze fall upon his stepfather's withered body soaked in blood red stains. He had to force himself to immediately look away, feeling a horrible sickening twinge of nausea at the sight of the Captain's drained-pale skin. Emma buried her face in her adult son's shoulder, letting out the broken whimpers she couldn't show in front of Killian. "I've got you. Just don't look," He leaned his cheek over the top of her head. "His suffering is over. He's at rest now."

She shook her head against Henry's shoulder though did not have the coherence to form words. The horrible reality was that he _wasn't_ okay. He _wasn't_ at rest. Adam wasn't either. Though this felt like the end of what she had hoped would go on forever, Emma knew that Killian's part in this story was far from over. As it was becoming more obvious, Davy Jones had a hand in all that was happening around her, including Killian's death. This was all a part of the game, and Killian's role was far from being complete.

* * *

_Elizabeth felt the soft dry sand sink between her bare toes. There were no seagulls cawing overhead, nor were there stray groups of people enjoying the setting breeze of the coastal evening. Night had fallen and welcomed the cool sea air to whisk through her freely fallen curls as they sat over her back._

"_Good to see you again," she heard a hauntingly deep voice resonate over the gentle crashing of the black tides. "I see you've taken a liking to your new abilities." _

_Elizabeth dropped her shoulders, disregarding the crazed panic that flustered within. "I know how this works," she muttered out. "If you think you're the first person to use dreams as a way of haunting me, I'm afraid you'll have to rethink your strategy." _

"_Feisty little lass, aren't you?" The man's low voice chuckled. "Though you aren't content ." _

"_I've got you to thank for that," Elizabeth answered curtly. She didn't need a face to identify who it was that had come to plague her dreams. The voice was similar to that of her father's, in that it bore the same articulated accent; however, it was darker and brooding. "What have you got to say to me?"_

"_I merely want to congratulate you. It's high time I've passed Jones legacy onwards."Elizabeth continued to swivel her head around the beach for any signs of a second presence, though could find anyone to associate the voice to. "I eagerly await your boarding of the Dutchman, Miss Elizabeth." _

"_Yeah, well, hate to break it to you but I have no intention of leaving this camp, much less board your ship." _

"_You're stubborn," the voice chided her in amusement. "Quite the necessary trait for a Captain over his crew." _

"_I'm stubborn," she nodded, "and stressed and angry and vengeful and hungry and sore. I'm also not a Jones, I'm a Swan." Her drawl of angered complaints were gritted through her teeth. "And I don't appreciate you sending your filthy little scum out to do your dirty work. If you have something to say, then say it to my face." _

"_Believe me, I intend to."_

Elizabeth's eyes shot open in a nervous fit; her long suppressed gasp for air broke through the cool night wind.

She couldn't help but immediately taste the estranged essence of smoke in the air. Still sitting on the roof of Peter's tree house, Elizabeth had the view of the entire camp ground below her. Her suspicions of smoke were immediately answered when she caught sight of the forest floor covered in a blanket of fiercely growing flames. The trees with filled with the intoxication of black smog. Elizabeth choked back a gulp of clouded air as she struggled to identify any signs of lost boys still in the area.

Looking down along the trails of the campgrounds, Elizabeth finally saw a physical altercation between two boys. One, she knew right away to be a lost boy. The other, however, wore no hood or sported any of the traditional clothing of a lost boy. His appearance was tattered and grungy, and all too familiar. It was the pirate. Free from his bonds. Attacking one of the lost boys. One of _her_ lost boys.

Without so much as a second thought, Elizabeth gripped onto the pendant of her necklace, whispered a silent plea for Peter's immediate return, and hopped down from the ledge of the rooftop. The ladder of foot indents leading up the tree had already begun to catch ablaze, though she had no other option. Elizabeth didn't give the matter much thought; all that she could think about was the lost boy in imminent danger of the pirate.

Using her years of experience climbing the ropes of her father's ship, Elizabeth skillfully climbed halfway down the tree and welcomed the rest of the distance in a swift fall. Her legs absorbed the shock of her drop, and before she had the time to consider the damage she had just done to her knees, she was running.

Baring merely a dagger, Elizabeth jumped over the rise and fall of the flames to reach a close distance to the pirate. He sensed her coming, and with an easy motion, turned to face her with the lost boy trapped in between his knife and choking forearm. "Ah, if it isn't Miss Swan," he called out to her above the roar and crackle of the flames. His iron bonds still dangled down from his wrists, obviously not secured well enough to keep the pirate from escaping his cage.

She squinted; her vision began to blur from the hot sting of the fiery smog. The pirate pressed the edge of the blade against the esophagus of the lost boy, drawing the first trails of dark blood. "Stop," she coughed. "Let him go."

"Run Lizzie," the lost boy tried to call out against the press of the blade. He winced against the sharp pain of his breaking skin.

Elizabeth felt the necklace begin to tingle.

"You've got all the power you need to put the fire out, lassie. I won't stop you," the pirate grinned menacingly.

"Nice try," Elizabeth growled as she reached to pick up a stray machete. "I know better than do what you want. Peter will be here soon and you'll be dead."

"Will I?" The pirate perked his brow, cutting deeper into the throat of the lost boy.

Out of instinct, Elizabeth took a few offensive steps forward ready to attack. The pirate pulled the knife away and pointed it towards her with an amused grin. "As I said, dearie. It's time to shine. Put out the flames and the lost boy lives. If you don't, dear ol' Petey will return to a charcoaled forest and this little lad's throat slit."

"You wouldn't."

"Pirate," the grungy boy muttered bluntly. He pulled the knife back to the jugular of the lost boy. "I'll give you to the count of ten to make up your mind, lassie. Use your sorcerer tricks and be sent to the Dutchman, or endure the responsibility of the boy's life. Ten." Elizabeth shifted her position, though the enclosing perimeter of forest fire limited her ability to move and get a better angle.

"Nine."

Elizabeth's heart began to race. She felt her necklace continually heat and she knew Peter was returning back to her. Perhaps eight second would be enough time for Peter to return.

"Eight."

Attack him. Attack him now. Ignore the walls of fire and just do it. Run through them. Stop him. Shut him up.

"Seven."

The lost boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face as the situation became more and more clear. She needed to put an end to this, now.

"Six."

The pirate glared with an incessant determination that she knew wouldn't stop here. His insatiable hunger was relentless; he would never stop pursuing her until she complied to his demands.

"Five."

The heat of magic began to pulsate within her being as the anger set in. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed dangerously, the threat of her glowing hands beginning to unsettle even the pirate.

"Four."

She could no longer feel the necklace as it practically vibrated against her skin in warning. The hatred swelling in her heart had begun to fester and twist her grip on reality. Smoke began to circle around Elizabeth's body.

"Three."

Elizabeth took an offensive step forward, pin pointing the pressure points of the pirate. Despite the heat welling her in core, she felt her hands begin to numb in frost.

"Two."

She rolled her lip into her mouth and bit down hard, feeling herself slowly slip over the edge into oblivion.

"One."

At the jutting extension of her two arms, an incredible surge of ice magic pulsed out from her core, putting out each and every flame within a five-hundred foot radius. The pirate flew back and slammed against the nearest tree under a fatal force that immediately rendered him unconscious. The lost boy rolled to the ground and tucked his head under his arms, waiting for the frightening display of magic to end. The trees, which had just been crackling and burning, simmered and froze from Elizabeth's sudden outburst of unrestrained magic.

She dropped to her knees after letting the strength flow out her body, left with an overwhelming exhaustion. She felt a trickle of crimson drip down onto her palm which she leaned her weight on. Elizabeth raised a tentative finger up to her nose, which had immediately dribbled out warm blood.

Just as the lost boy mustered enough courage to look up and survey the frozen iceland that the forest had now become, Peter dropped down from the air onto the forest floor a short distance away from Lizzie. His golden hair was riled back from the gusts of wind he ripped through while rushing to return. Peter's expression was infused with an equal amount of anger and horror; it was a look of vulnerability that the lost boy was not accustomed to seeing his leader sport in front of his disciples.

"Elizabeth," he called out to her crouched frame. She did not react to her name; she just remained there, crouched on the wooded floor with her head bowed to the ground. Just as Peter was able to reach out and touch the fabric over her shoulder, Elizabeth's physical form dissipated into a mist of ocean spray. The salty sea air rose up from where Peter stood, high above the half-burned half-frozen canopies, caught in the steady currents of the wind that led out towards the sea.

Towards the Dutchman.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" The Lost Boy squirmed where he lied under the seat. Clothed in pirate garb, each of the four Lost Boys all glared at each other with similar discomfort.

"Yes," Felix muttered softly while rowing deeply into the black ocean water. "It's not our place to question Pan. Just keep your voices down."

As the leader of their group rowed the boat out into blacker waters, the other boys stayed down along the floor to keep out of sight. Despite them all being younger than Felix, they were the prime of the pack – those that were skilled enough to make countless raids aboard the Jolly Roger during their time years ago in Neverland.

Felix eyed the surrounding waters for any sign of a ship. He squinted out into the distance of looming fog and sure enough, he caught sight of a shadowed sunken mass peeking out from the surf a short distance ahead. "We're coming up on something. Have your weapons at the ready."

The boys all looked up expectantly at Felix, gripping their sharpened blades close to their chests.

The dingy rowboat carrying the pack of Lost Boys reared up behind the stern of what appeared to be a sunken merchant vessel. Inscribed in cursive along the backside of the ship was the sign entitled, _The Head Crow_. Unimpressive in size or appearance, the Lost Boys eyed the ship warily as they made their preparations to climb aboard. "Keep close," Felix mumbled and crouched up from where he sat. "Pan's given me the instructions, so follow my steps and keep your mouths shut."

The Lost Boys nodded obediently before mounting their footing into the thin crevice of the boards along the side of the ship. Felix climbed up ahead nimbly without making a sound. Not waiting for his group of boys to catch up, he cautiously peered up over the side to scope out the deck of the ship.

The weathered vessel was deserted, as was expected given its grounded state. Tattered strips of what once seemed to be a flag flittered in the wind overhead the crows mast. The rotted floorboards had faded dark from the years of absorbing the saltwater surf.

Felix took a tentative step onto the deck, his weight causing a horrid squeak all throughout the vessel. His raised his hand up to the Lost Boys behind him, signaling for the group to pause. The crash and lick of the waves up alongside the face of the ship caused the structure to cringe. Felix took another step to test the fragility of the boards. At first sign of breakage, Felix leaped back to the edge of the ship and dodged the punctured board breaking a hole over the deck. "It's not safe to walk aboard the ship," he grumbled back to the boys.

"What do we do?" One of the boys demanded as he sensed his footing over the slippery edge begin to give.

"We find another way." Felix looked up at the spare ropes dangling from the top of leaning masts. He reached up for the ends of a frayed rope, then peered across to the trap door located in the center of the main deck. "There," he pointed, "That's it."

"That's the entrance to the Dutchman?" One of the boys questioned skeptically. "Felix, this ship is grounded. That door leads down to the lower deck, which at this point is all underwater."

Felix ignored the complaints of the boys, instead gripping the rope and swinging himself across the deck. He landed both feet over the trap door, causing the rotted ship to let out another whine of protest. He swung the rope back to the boys, who were all sitting over the edge.

He waved for the next boy to swing over. They looked at each other, all baring the signs of skepticism as they handed the rope off to the youngest of the boys. One by one, they swung across the deck to where Felix caught and lowered them in a huddled group. The boarding over the trap door seemed relatively stronger and stable than anywhere else on deck.

When the last boy made it across the deck, Felix silently ushered for them to take a careful step back. Hooking his fingers under the rusted metal handle, he heaved the trap door open. All of the boys leaned over to peer inside, shocked to find a dry wooden stairwell in the place of a flooded under level.

"How is that supposed to lead us to the Dutchman?" One of the boys grumbled.

"Have you not been paying any attention? This _is_ the Dutchman. We on the crow's nest. The rest is down below."

All four of them gaped in disbelief. "So you're saying the ship is... underwater?"

"Have a little faith, boys. There's a reason this enchanted ship is supposedly impossible to find," he smirked while gesturing at the closest boy, "After you."

Wide-eyed and nervous with the uncertainty of what awaited them down below, they reluctantly lined up and made their descent one after the other down the staircase into ambiguous darkness. Felix followed the last Lost Boy, careful to shut the trap door after him.

* * *

The first body that hit the ocean let off a heavy plopping splash that turned Emma's stomach. Wrapped in white sheets, all that was left of Killian immediately sunk down from the surface under the deep blue surf beyond sight.

Belle squeezed her eyes shut tight, feeling the firm grasp of Rumplestiltskin's arm around hers as the second body hit the water. Adam's body was lighter, causing less of a splash when his body sank into the massing blue. The crowds of people on the ship stood in silence to mourn the passing of the two boys. Neal clung to Belle and his father as if his life depended on it, unable to raise his gaze any further than the floorboards of the deck. Regina and Robin kept a mutually tight grip on Roland, though the silent tears nonetheless kept dripping down his stubbled chin.

Adam had been one of Roland's best friends through their childhood. Despite Roland having several years over the generation of younger children, Adam was exceptionally more mature and could easily relate.

Throughout the ceremony, up until the bodies were dropped off the deck into the ocean, Henry had been shuffling nervously between groups. Like Emma, he spoke very little to anyone who had the nerve to try and comfort him. He was beyond words of comfort or positivity; his stepfather was dead, his cousin (technically uncle, though he referred to Adam as cousin) was dead, his sister was still missing likely dead, and there were no answers that could offer him legitimate solace.

He had paced around the ship several times, constantly moving in a circuit from Emma to Neal to Regina and to his grandparents, before Wendy had the heart to pull him aside into the Captain quarters to give him a minute away from it all.

The ship soon made port after the ceremony, where the guests of neighboring kingdoms departed down the ship walkway onto the harbor. Still not having said much to anyone besides Henry, Neal and her mother, Emma was determined to get off the ship as fast as she could to escape from it all – all the people, all the tears, all the black.

"Emma, can we talk?" Emma heard Belle's low fragile voice behind her. Rumplestiltskin looked at the two women, hesitated, though obliged to give Belle just these few minutes of privacy alone with the Savior. "Somewhere private, perhaps?"

"About what?"

Belle took Emma's clammy hand, leading her away from the crowded walkway of the ship and into the Captain's quarters. They walked into the room, shocked to still find Henry sitting on the edge of what used to be Killian's bed. He leaned limply against Wendy, head cradled in her arms as she rocked his trembling body while soothing strokes over his hair.

"Henry," Emma muttered weakly.

Wendy swallowed and peered down at him, hoping that he'd muster enough strength to lift his head. After a long sniffle of mucus, Henry titled his head upwards towards his mother and Belle. Eyes pink and swollen with moisture, jaw shadowed in unshaven scruff, Henry barely looked like his clean-cut optimistic self. Wendy kept an assuring hold around his back to help him stay upright. "Mom," he muttered. "Would it be alright if we stayed at your place, just for tonight?"

Emma hardened the shaking of her lips into a forced smile. She walked over to where the two of them sat and gently pressed a tear-leaked kiss over the side of his temple. "Of course."

Wendy dropped her hand down to his sweating palms, "Can you make it to the castle, Henry? That way we can find a room and settle?"

He swallowed then dropped his jaw open to let out a shuddered breath. Nodding, the boy struggled to stand to his feet. Wendy hurried up to stand by his side, steadying the boy's faltering balance when the ship gently rocked. "We'll see you shortly," Wendy looked back at the two woman still in the room. Emma smiled up at her gratuitously, relieved that Henry had her there for support.

Belle remained respectfully quiet until the two of them left the Captain's quarters. She looked back at Emma, who was evidently beginning to feel the stabs of sitting in Killian's empty quarters.

"You wanted to say something to me," Emma muttered lowly. "Whatever it is, you might as well just say it."

"Emma, I'm sorry, I don't want to..."

"Don't apologize. You lost your son today. You're not the one that needs to be sorry for all this."

"I suppose that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Belle shifted her posture uncomfortably. "The morning after we heard Elizabeth jumped into the harbor, I went through Rumpelstiltskin's library. I found something on the Legend of Davy Jones."

"There's a book about him?"

"There's a book written about all of us."

"Okay, well what did it say?"

"The legend starts off depicting the tale of the great pirate, Blackbeard. Feared by all, including his crew, Blackbeard sailed the seas for many years, pillaging and thieving treasures and ships that suited him a heavy reward. Despite his triumph, however, he was a greedy man who yearned for more than the common sparkle of gold. He wanted eternal glory; immortality; a claim to rule the seas as more than your average pirate. Spending many years searching for an answer, he finally found a way to contact the ocean goddess, Calypso."

"What do you mean, ocean goddess?"

"I would guess Ariel knows quite a bit on the subject of Calypso seeing as she shares Triton's power over the seas."

"That explains why she already knew so much about the ring."

"Yes, well when Calypso made her presence known to Blackbeard in physical form, he demanded her to fulfill all his wishes. As ultimate ruler of the pirates on the seas, he felt entitled. However, more than anything this insulted the goddess. Never had any man taken her for granted. It was her decision that he pay for his arrogance."

"So she cursed him?"

"Well, no, not right away at least. As one of her many duties, Calypso led the dead sailors to peaceful rest. When Blackbeard made this tall demand to her, she sought to benefit from his pride. Calypso did not act without first carefully planning her consequences, so she concealed her rage towards the pirate. She bowed to the mortal pirate king and agreed to assist him to immortality. Describing all of the glory that would come to the ferrier of lost souls, she guaranteed him an eternity of ultimate rule over the seas. Of course, he wasn't able to recognize her offer as being anything more than the trap that it was so he accepted on one condition." Emma crossed her arms. "He asked her to birth him a mortal heir to take his place on the seas. He wanted the reputation to carry on through his blood. She consented to this, and soon after Davy Jones took on his reign as the Ferrier of Lost Souls, Calypso carried Liam out of the ocean as a newborn and delivered him on the doorstep of a peaceful family involved in the fish market trade."

"But she didn't just give him one heir; she gave him two."

"Yes, well here's where the story gets a bit interesting. It was just a few years after Blackbeard, now assuming his formal name Captain Davy Jones, took his responsibilities that he longed to make port again. He had grown tired of the stagnant duties he had been given. Despite Calypso's warning that he could only make port once in every ten years, his desire to loot, pillage, and destroy got the better of him. He defied Calypso's orders and attacked a small sea port, killing all its inhabitants and raiding the minimal amount of goods it had to offer. When Calypso heard word of this attack, she punished him."

"How?"

"The Captain's consequence was to be given a second son, one that would be raised alongside his brother as his companion. However unlike his glorified brother, the youngest would be destined to cause Davy Jones's ultimate ruin and put an end to his reign."

"Killian..."

Belle nodded, her gaze now wary with fear.

"So you're telling me that I just sent my husband to the Dutchman to face the one man that would be more than happy to send his him off to the locker?" Emma swallowed, her eyes wide with the sudden rush of guilt and anxiety. "He asked me to do this before he died!" She paused, anger and apprehension getting the better of her breathing. "If I knew any better then I would have told him no."

"I know this is difficult to hear. I need Adam just as you need your daughter and Killian. Despite everything Rumple has told me, I'm not going to idly sit by and let a pirate decide my son's fate. What this story showed me was that there might be a way for us to reach the Dutchman."

"We'd have to die, just like Killian and Adam."

"Not necessarily. As two mothers, I think we might have some luck appealing to someone who might understand our point of view."

"You're not seriously considering contacting Calypso for help?"

"I can't do this alone, Emma. I need you to come with me. Mother to mother, you must understand that I'd go to the ends of the earth to bring my son back."

"Yeah," Emma nodded. Feeling the resolve wash over her, Emma recognized her new purpose. "If you honestly believe that this will get us to the Dutchman, then you know I'll be there. I am not letting Killian face that man alone."

* * *

The hazy mist accumulated down from the sky of gray fog, drifting lower and lower until a mass cloud formed into a shape along the deck of the Dutchman. Out of the gray smog, Elizabeth's body reformed over the main deck. She reappeared kneeling on her knees, face cradled in her palms with trickles of blood still dripping from her nasal cavity. At first it felt as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep; every limb felt like pins and needles, prickling and tingling at the subtlest motion.

The mass of rumbling voices, squeaking ropes, heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter along the expansive deck of the Dutchman silenced when the girl took definitive shape. The filthy portion of the crew working took a step back, at first unsure of what was beginning to happen.

Just after a brief second, Elizabeth opened her eyes down to the wooden boards of the deck.

The deck was silent; men gaping suspiciously down at her while she hesitated to look up and notice the group of old gruff pirates surrounding her.

"Wait," she muttered practically inaudibly. "This... this can't be... am I... is this... the Dutchman?"

"You look lost little girlie." A leathery-skinned pirate having merely a dust of thin blonde hairs atop his head mumbled. Pushing out from the others, he approached where Elizabeth knelt. He crouched down close to get a better look at the princess, bony limbs jutting out as indents against the stiff salt-coated fabric of his pants. "This one's not dead yet. She has no business aboard."

"It's not very often our Captain brings people here. Surely there's a reason." Another man uttered, his auburn beard flapping every drop of his jaw.

"It's not every day he brings a _young woman_ aboard either," Another pirate smirked maliciously.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Her hand fell to the handle of the dagger sitting in her belt. The pirates all shared the same predatory smiles, now shifting their curious glances to hungry glares. And she knew they were all hungry for the same thing.

Elizabeth quickly stumbled up to her feet. "Don't even think about it," she growled. "Keep away from me."

"We wouldn't dare keep you from having an audience with our Captain, but that isn't to say we all can't have a little fun with you first..." The hungry gaze of the crouching pirate smouldered in darkness, anticipating the glory of the beautiful conquest standing before him. "You see miss, it's been years since our Captain has rewarded us with a treasure besides gold. Clearly we're all done something right to earn a good favor."

Elizabeth mercilessly jerked the knife upwards towards the pirate's reaching hand, threatening with a carved gash into his wrist. "Touch me and you lose your hand."

"She's a feisty one," one of the men snickered.

"Take me to your Captain!" She ordered them. "As guest of this ship, I demand to seek council with Captain Davy Jones."

"You'll have to do better than that." The lanky crouching pirate flashed a row of rotten yellow teeth, softened at the edges.

Elizabeth scowled, dropping his shoulders in defeat. "Okay well, I didn't want to pull out his card... but _parley_."

The men froze, all shocked by the single word that the girl uttered out from her mouth. "What did you just say?"

"Paaaarrrlleeyyyyy," Elizabeth repeated angrily. "I'm not playing games here. I know how this works with pirates. If you break your precious code and harm me under the protection of parley, your ass will be sent to the locker so fast you wouldn't have the time to even consider to jumping overboard."

The pirate standing closest in front of her scowled with a furrowed brow. Wordlessly, he reached out and grabbed Elizabeth's arm, pulling her past the group of pirates that had surrounded her towards the front door lit by candlelight on the other side.

"Just a warning, dearie," he muttered lowly, "Asking for an audience with Captain Jones might very well mean more hell for you than what you just dodged." Elizabeth gritted her teeth to keep from retorting with a searing remark. The pirate dragging her along kicked open the door without so much as a knock and pushed Elizabeth in.

She turned back, only to have the door slammed in her face, leaving her alone in the room without nothing but the flicker of candle light, sensing the ominous presence of _something _in the room watching her.

* * *

The pirates had gone back to resuming their duties on deck when suddenly a man stationed in the lower watch nest atop one of the masts called out, _Man overboard! Steady on men, there are two of them__!_

Despite their seeming lack in intellect, fishing for bodies was the Dutchman's specialized work. Each and every pirate had spent enough time aboard to know the protocol for fishing a body out of the ocean.

Luckily it seemed there had only been two casualties, no oceanic wars involving the sinking of hundreds of sailors at once.

Killian and Adam's bodies had unraveled from the white sheets that they had been dumped into the ocean in. The prickly rope netting dropped over them, tangling their limbs and eventually allowing for a successful pull out of the waters. Still unconscious from the transition of life to death, Adam and Killian slumped across the deck numbly as if they were both in a deep sleep.

"The Captain's a bit preoccupied to ferry these here boys. It'll be awhile before these two wake back up."

"What do you say we do with them, then?"

Standing over Killian and Adam's still unconscious bodies, the tallest pirate suddenly gestured down at Killian, "That one. Bring him down into an isolated cell. The other can go down into the brig until the Captain can spare a little time."

Obeying the orders of the first-mate on deck, two pirates helped scoop Killian up over their shoulders and drag him down stairs to an isolated store room. Adam, on the other hand, was hurled up ungracefully over the shoulder of the tallest pirate and was walked to the _other_ door leading down to the lowest levels of the ship: the brig.


	9. Chapter 9

Adam woke abruptly under the bitter cold of the ocean spray leaking in through the crevices of the boards lining the wall of his cell. He squinted his eyes open only for a moment before the sting of the salt water seeped in, causing him to flinch upwards and smack his head against the back wall. The bulky rusted chains locked on his wrists rattled from his sudden movements.

It took Adam a moment to calm his disorientation. His last memory was the hazed glimpse of his mother leaning over his bedside, the blur of candlelight infusing with the tears watering his vision, and the sheer expression of pain that had begun to shift his father's gaze towards him.

He brought his hand down to his leg where his skin had once been slit. Slipping his hand through the sliced gash of his trousers, Adam couldn't feel the rift of his flesh wound, nor could he sense any sharp pains from the poison. He looked down to his bloodstained trousers in search of the gash but could find nothing beyond the thin cut of the fabric.

"I must have nicked you good if you ended up here." A dark accented voice spoke up from the prison cell next door. Adam could barely discern the figure of a man slumping over the bench bar of his cell. The prisoner begrudgingly rustled to sit up from where he lied. A rat squeaked loudly when the pirate lowered his feet into the puddle, then scurried off from under his bench into another empty cell.

"You," Adam glowered at the pirate, suddenly recognizing him to be same pirate that had been the cause of all his trouble, the same pirate that had attacked Killian in the forest, assaulted Elizabeth, and inflicted Adam's fatal poisonous wound along his legs. He surged forward towards the thin metal bars separating the two of them, though was held back by his sturdy chains. "I could kill you," Adam growled through his teeth.

"Not while you're chained up like that," The pirate nodded to the boy's effects then reached into his belt buckle for the flask stowed under the band of his trousers. "And don't be expecting an apology. You should have known better than to interfere in a pirate's affairs, even with that shiny sword you sported."

Adam continued to pull at the metal chains keeping him grounded in the murky puddle along the floor of the brig. Having spent enough time unconscious on the floor, his lungs were already filled with the wreaking smell of the curdled water. He guessed it to be some disgusting combination of grime, molds, warm seawater, piss, rum, and some other horrid unidentifiable substance. He pursed his lips to keep his gag reflex in order, though could not help but taste the bile pool in his mouth from nausea.

"The lad hasn't been awake for more than a minute and already he's about to lose himself." The pirate grinned mockingly across the prison cells to another set of cells on the other side of the ship, as if he were speaking to someone on the other side.

Adam swallowed the taste of his disgust, struggling to keep from gagging as he straightened up onto the low elevation of his prison bench. Looking across the hall to the other set of prison cells, he noticed another figure lounging in the shadows far enough away from the torchlight.

The pirate leaned up against the bars separating his and Adam's cell, showing off the fact that he was not bound to the floor in irons as Adam was. "I do hope there's no hard feelings," he muttered with a straight face hidden under the black grease over his eyelids, "I had my orders."

"_Orders_?" Adam jerked his arms back up in defiance of his shackles, still seething with anger. "You ruined everything!"

"Aye, as I said, orders." The pirate grinned cheekily while taking another sip from his flask.

"Oh for heaven's sake, leave the boy alone." A shockingly feminine voice accosted the pirate from across the hall of the brig. Leaning out of her cover of shadow into the torchlight, the woman that had been watching the two boys made her presence visible to the both of them. Her ice blue glare towards the pirate had the effect of a hurdling sharpened knife, immediately sending the pirate back to his bench with little more than a prideful scoff.

She was older than the both of them, ranging somewhere in her late thirties by Adam's guess.

Her reprimanding glare lingered over the pirate, silently keeping him in his place long enough to earn some peace. Adam swallowed nervously, his own bright blue eyes getting lost under his wet shagging curls that fell over his brows. The woman turned her sharp attention to Adam, though lost the hostility to reveal an unsettling expression of sympathy.

"I apologize for having to put up with the likes of him. The only reason he's put down here at night is because the crew can't stand his company neither. They'd likely kill him if they had the chance."

"Aye but they don't," the pirate grinned proudly, reaching out and tightening a firm grip around the iron bars.

"This is the Dutchman," Adam spoke calmly, having already somewhat come to grips with the grim reality of his situation. The woman nodded, her blue eyes softening under the shadow of her lustrous raven black curls. Adam immediately sensed that there was something disconcerting about her; though she was indeed dressed in pirate garb, there was a charm of gentle beauty about her that distinguished her from his notion of an average buccaneer.

He looked around to gather in his surroundings, though he was unable to see further down the hall past the flickering torchlight.

"You best get some some rest," the woman spoke gently. "You won't be called up to await judgement for a while."

"Await judgment?"

The pirate chuckled, "You're on the Dutchman now, laddie. If you intend on staying you've got to convince the Captain you're worth something, otherwise you're sent to the locker."

"So really you're saying I've got two choices: waste away an eternity with you in a puddle of men's piss at the bottom level of a cursed ship, or be sent to the locker."

The pirate grinned over at the woman, "I like this one already."

* * *

Elizabeth had been forced into a dimly lit room, too dark to discern the shape or size of its walls. The last waning flames on the candle ends were peeking out over the mounds of melted clumping wax. All Elizabeth could smell was the horrible looming odor of spilt hard liquor with the subtle hinting trace of burnt matches.

She kept her head on a swivel constantly looking out for any sign of another in the room. Though she could not see more than a few feet beyond where she stood, she could feel someone else watching her. It was the silent lurking of a predator keeping watch over its prey. Elizabeth knew the feeling, and she hated it.

"Are you going to talk to me, or what?" She called out, finally having mustered the strength to swallow back her fear. A dark chuckle sounded on the opposite side of the room. At the crack of a fresh match, a brighter light glowed and lit the end of a new candle. Elizabeth finally caught sight of the man wielding the match, looking nothing like that she imagined from her nightmare.

He was tall and generally large in size, bigger than any man she had ever seen. Dressed in black heavy leathers, he easily blended in with his shadowed cabin. His large black hat stretched out on all sides over his head, shadowing his weathered facade.

Gripping a firm hold of the candle, he slowly made his way across his cabin closer to the young girl, each step a thunderous boom that could surely be heard in the lower levels below.

The Captain's only color came from his ocean blue eyes that matched the color of her own, which were buried under the sag of tired wrinkles and crusted black grime. His long dark brown beard stretched down in curls from his chiseled jaw over his chest. Knotted and speckled with filth, the hairy beard bounced as the Captain let out another hearty, menacing chuckle. "I've been wondering when I'd have the pleasure of meeting you, Miss Swan."

Elizabeth bowed her head and swallowed the nervous dry lump balling in her throat. "I take it you're Davy Jones."

"Captain Davy Jones, yes," he asserted dryly. "Elizabeth Mary Swan, it's been far too long." His voice was far too calculated for her liking.

"You're not at all what I expected," she muttered plainly, still keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.

The pirate chuckled again, reaching out to light a few more lights in the cabin. "You'd prefer I appear in my more, monstrous form?"

"No," she answered abruptly, "I mean, I didn't think there was a difference. I thought you didn't have a choice."

"If I am ever to step a foot on land before my next ten year mark, then take a good look."

Elizabeth sucked in a nervous breath and averted her gaze from his feet, desperately peering out into the darkness to recognize any features or furnishings similar to her father's Captain Quarters in the Roger. "Do you always work this way in the dark?"

"There's no need of it," he answered. Slowly, Elizabeth started at the man's feet and worked her way up until she finally made it to his gaze. Her mere ability to look him in the eye caused the Captain to take a step back, impressed by her courage. "Only a Jones would be so bold," he spoke with a disconcerting reverence.

"I told you before, I'm a Swan. Elizabeth Swan."

"You can deny a great many things, but there's no getting around what's running in your blood, missy." His breath wafted over her, smelling like rotten shellfish, tempting Elizabeth to gag. She pursed her lips to stomach her instinctive reflex, stomaching the disgusting odor as it filled her nostrils. "It took you less than a day's time to embrace what's been given to you," his large sweaty finger brushed over the ring still wrapped tightly around Elizabeth's finger.

"I had no choice, the boy would have died."

The Captain suddenly threw back Elizabeth's hand, gaze darkening into two brooding storms as he backed Elizabeth up into a wall. "You _did _have a choice," he growled ferociously, "we _all_ have a choice. You could have let the boy die. What's one out of the millions that die every day?" He tilted his head, eyes widening manically in question, scathing into the back of Elizabeth's head. She shriveled back, unable to contest him. "No, my dear. You made the choice the embrace power, not just to save that insignificant little boy's life, but to _throw your enemy into the dirt_. As I said before, you certainly are a Jones. Do not be so foolish as to argue and say that your anger comes from anywhere else."

Elizabeth shut her eyes, cowering back into the wall as the Captain continued to growl breaths of death against her face.

"You've still got a ways to go, still so young and naïve," he muttered. "That's no matter, as you'll come to realize, we've got all the time in the world on this ship."

"You'll come to realize I'm a very patient girl, Captain Jones. I have powerful friends and family who will come after me."

The Captain chuckled, leaning even closer until he was just inches from the shying face of his grand daughter. "I look forward to meeting them, all of them."

* * *

"I don't like this plan," Rumplestiltskin grumbled while pacing after his wife into the grandiose foyer of the Dark Castle. Belle ignored the Dark One's remark, continuing her search for her trekking boots that she preferred wearing during any long-distance travel. Catching sight of their coat room, Belle hurried over towards the door, leaving Rumplestiltskin even further behind. "Let me talk to the sea witch."

"Sea _goddess_," Belle shouted out from behind the coat racks. "Rumple, you said yourself that she wouldn't accept your company. If she can help us reach the Dutchman...-"

"I'll find another way. I won't put you in harms way."

Belle emerged out from the closet gripping her mud-caked leather boots. She shrugged her shoulders with an exhausted huff. "Don't you see? There is no other way. I'll do whatever it takes to get Adam off that ship."

"She's right," Emma countered as she descended down their staircase over their heads. "Convincing this woman-creature-goddess-thing to help us won't be a walk in the park, but it's the best plan we've got." She stopped at the foot of the stairs, pursed her lips in thought and looked back up from whence she came. "Neal's still up there with Henry and Wendy. Are you sure you guys can handle taking care of him for a few days?"

"Henry's not a child anymore, Miss Swan. While I can't see myself being much of a comfort, he's got his father and his fiance. Not to mention it's best that he stays here where it's safe," Rumple answered.

Emma hesitated, though was reminded of the vitality of their mission by the calling of Belle's persistent gaze. "Yeah," she swallowed and took the final step down the staircase. "This shouldn't take long. According to one of the old maps I found on the Roger, we'll be looking for some sort of cove by the shores where my parents live. Getting there and back shouldn't take more than a few days."

Rumple reached for his cloak hanging over a bronze hook curving out of the wall, "If you two are so willing to see this witch, then I'll be coming as well."

"Rumple!"

"No Belle, I don't want to hear it. No matter how powerful you think you are, Savior, you both could use an additional escort through the woods at this time of night. The Dark Castle's grounds are guarded well enough by my magic, Henry and Bae will be safe as long as they stay within these walls."

Emma glared at Belle, hoping she would have some sort of hierarchical demand against letting Rumplestiltskin come. However, much to her dismay, Emma could already tell Belle was somewhat at ease with having her husband join them on their expedition. Belle tried to seem indifferent as she laced up her boots, though couldn't help give off the slightest hint of a smirk. "I should probably go back up there and let them know they're on their own for a few days."

Belle nodded warmly as she stood and wrapped her arm through Rumple's. Emma let out a deep sigh, turning on the balls of her feet and quickly making her way back up the staircase. Though Rumplestiltskin was an exhausting company to keep for a long period of time, Emma knew that the circumstances did call for some caution.

She dragged her feet back up the stairs towards Neal's old bedroom where she had just left the boys and Wendy, though stopped, having noticed another door suspiciously open a little ways beyond down the hall. Emma frowned, though thought little of it asides from the likelihood that they simply moved into that room. She walked past Neal's room down the hall until she stood just outside the cracked open door. Without thinking to knock, Emma cautiously entered.

The room resembled some sort of conference room. Most of the space was occupied by a grand mahogany table with red velvet cushioned chairs settled on all sides. Antiquated tapestries lined the walls, as was expected from Rumplestiltskin's taste for the finer styles of living. Out of the three large glass paned windows, one was already cracked open to let in the summer breeze.

Emma couldn't understand why she felt uncomfortable standing alone in the room. It felt as if there were eyes on her back, watching her though hidden out of sight. The chills ran up her spine. The sense of discomfort was enough to make Emma turn to take her leave out of the room.

"Might I have a moment?" She heard a chillingly familiar voice speak up from across the room. Emma turned back to find Peter Pan now sitting comfortably at the far end of the room, feet crossed over the end of the varnished table. He fashioned a smug grin, the same smug grin that had always caused her blood to boil.

"I should say I'm surprised to see you, but I'm not."

"Of course not," Peter half-grinned, straightening his posture in the tilted chair. "As far as mothers go, you're quite perceptive."

"Where is my daughter?"

"At the moment, she's not where she ought to be. But that will all soon change."

"You're not serious," Emma growled. "Tell me you're joking."

"This hasn't exactly been my day for jokes," Peter answered shrewdly, eyes glowering in shared frustration.

Emma took an offensive step forward, eyes widening as the hysteria finally began to sink in, "You know, as crazy as this might sound, I figured if _anyone_ in this world would be able to protect Elizabeth from all this, it would be you."

His eyes widened in mock-surprise, "Why Savior, I'm flattered." He uncrossed his legs to sit up on the edge of his seat. "Unfortunately Lizzie's newfound magic tricks have proved more destructive than even I anticipated."

"Magic tricks," Emma's brows furrowed.

"Pity you couldn't take enough care of her father to keep him from dying, perhaps then I wouldn't have had to leave her alone for that short hour." His gaze sobered into a more serious threat, "Rest assured I won't be making that mistake again."

"You're going after her?" Emma blinked. "You're going to the Dutchman?"

Peter turned and strode across the room towards the open window. "Don't look so surprised, Emma. As I said before, you've always been quite perceptive. Surely you don't credit her happiness from the past two years to her lessons aboard her dear father's ship?"

"I knew she must have been sneaking off with someone," Emma muttered impatiently. "I didn't want to believe it was you."

"Ooh, ouch," Peter winced sarcastically. "I suppose you've always fancied the Dark One's son, Adam, as your daughter's suitor?"

"He seemed to be the normal choice."

"Fortunately our Lizzie isn't normal, is she?" He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Emma as she followed his footsteps over to the closest chair. Grasping the headrest of the wooden chair with both hands, Emma sagged her weight into it, taking some of the exhaustion off from her feet.

"Did you actually want something from me, or did you just come to get on my last nerve?"

Peter tilted his head while observing Emma's curious display of sheer exasperation. "You should know that I've already got a few of my boys aboard the Dutchman."

"That's impossible."

"Perhaps for you," he grinned boyishly. "I was actually on my way to join them, but thought it was good manners to stop by and give my regards. Two boys dead in one night," he tisked, "and here I thought you lived up to your name, Savior."

Emma gripped the backs of her chair, fire alighting in her hardened gaze towards the teenage Lost Boy, "I'm not screwing around. If you know a way to get to the Dutchman, you're going to tell me."

"Am I?" He gawked innocently. Even from where he stood, Peter could hear the grating sound of Emma's nails digging indents into the polished wood. He chuckled, "Not to worry. You'll get your chance to board the Dutchman, but it won't be through me." Emma frowned in confusion, gradually releasing her knuckle-white grip of the chair.

"As shocking as this might sound, I'm actually rather eager to have you visit dear Calypso." Peter pulled out a murky white magic bean from his pocket. "My plan depends on it."

"A bean? You're revolving all your plans around a magic bean?" Emma scoffed, "How the hell do you plan on beating out a cursed pirate legend with a magic bean? He's the ruler of all the ocean."

"I can't very well reveal all my secrets to you, Emma, not before you prove yourself worthy of hearing them."

"Excuse me?"

"Unfortunately the only way my plan can properly unfold aboard the Dutchman is with the assistance of an item the sea goddess currently possesses, a map. Your part in this plan is quite simple: bring me the map. Ask politely and I can't imagine it being any trouble for her to then send you on your way to the Dutchman."

"I've got an even better idea, why don't you go ask her yourself?"

"I'm not exactly in her good graces, seeing as I kept her son in Neverland for nearly three centuries. The only person who would have the best chance of persuading her is you. Surely as the mother of her grand daughter, you can find some way of appealing to her better nature."

"What if she doesn't want to help?"

"Oh believe me, she will." Peter stowed the bean back into the safety of his pocket. "While she is known for being a passionate, beautiful being, her reputation also proceeds her as having an uncontested fury. Perhaps invoking her motherly wrath is exactly what we need." He crouched under the open frame of the window to climb out.

"_We_?" Emma walked across the table towards the window pane, her arms still tightly crossed.

Peter turned back, now suspended in midair by a shroud of green haze. "I'll keep the Captain occupied until you arrive. Be sure to give Hook's mother my sincerest regards," he smirked deviously before nodding a curt farewell, flying high out of sight beyond the window.


	10. Chapter 10

Wendy pressed the feathered edge of her foundation brush along her cheekbone, caking a layer of fair powder over her flushed cheeks. She couldn't bear to show signs of her occasional lapses in strength, not while Henry was in such a broken state.

He had been in the bathroom for the past hour and she knew full well that it didn't take him that long to bathe.

She frowned at herself in the mirror, looking over her emotions concealed under the workings of her makeup before taking a few steps back towards the door leading into the bathroom from their bedroom.

She knocked lightly, not to badger him but more so to just remind him that there was someone still there for him on the other side of the door; to remind him that he wasn't completely alone.

"Yeah," Henry muttered. "I'll be out in a sec."

While she hated being apart from him, Wendy knew he was the sort of guy that needed a healthy blend of time spent alone and with others. She knew she had to be patient with him, and despite her own inner emotional strifes, Wendy couldn't help but prioritize Henry's needs first. That was the sort of person she was and had always been.

She was an adult now. It had been over twenty years since she escaped Neverland, and still she struggled identifying the innocence that was rattled during her imprisonment. Most of her former self had been lost, thanks to the many years she endured Pan's cruel manipulative ways. Henry was the only person to help retrieve her young spark. His usual spirited encouragement led her to pursue teaching at the local university, which reintroduced her to all her former joys from investigating new works of literature to fostering a young group of adolescents in need of a mentor with a motherly touch.

Wendy looked back at the door, a look of concern troubling her delicate features as she put down the light brown colored eye pencil. "Henry?"

She reached for the door knob, though was held frozen in place by a hand that gently grabbed her shoulder from behind. "Wait," she heard an all too familiar voice mutter quietly under his breath.

Wendy swallowed, her eyes fluttering shut as she was suddenly overwhelmed by a fluster of long-suppressed resurfacing fears.

"No," she murmured. "You're not really here. You can't be."

"Can't I?" His voice perked in amusement, casting an even worse essence of dread over her. His hold on her shoulder coerced her to turn to face him head-on.

"Peter," she murmured with wide eyes. Even now physically in her late thirties, Wendy still identified to him through her child-like gawking expression of nervousness, resembling that of a frightened doe.

Peter's eyes narrowed, his nose shriveling in disgust. "Why are you wearing makeup?"

"What," Wendy blinked. Her mouth parted in shock by his estranged statement.

Something in her suddenly snapped; whether it was the result of her restrained agony from the past week or a just the blistering hatred she felt for the boy that she never had the opportunity to express as a young girl, it hit her all at once. She balled her fists up tightly, digging crescent red moons into her palms with her blunt nails and squeezing her knuckles white. "It's been twenty years and that's the first bother that pops into your head?" She straightened out, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through her venom-laced words. "_Why am I wearing makeup_?"

His eyes widened, lips curving up in an elvish grin, "Well, well, look at you, bird, all grown up and ready to bite."

"Leave."

"I have some business to attend to." His head went on a swivel around the room while he swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I wonder, could you point me in the right direction of your dear fiancé?"

"You're not getting anywhere near him," her voice lowered. "I'll see to that myself."

Peter hummed, looking away with a malicious grin to better keep from snapping the woman's neck. "All these years and yet you still haven't learned, Darling. If I really intended on harming Henry, that door would be off its hinges and you'd have lost your shadow." His expression flattened, eyes hardening into a serious threat. Peter's voice hushed into a dark whisper, "I will not be so polite the next time I ask."

Wendy knew better than anyone to tread lightly once Peter lost his grin. She leaned back from the boy until she felt her back brush up against the door.

Suddenly the bathroom door whipped open behind her, sending a rushing breeze through the tousled ends of her hair. Wendy felt the protection of Henry's forearm wrap around her waist as he firmly pulled her back to his side. Despite the lines of red still creasing over Henry's glossy gaze, all hints of agony were lost and replaced with a wide-eyed, raving fury. "You're not laying a hand on her, Pan. Back off."

"Henry," Peter grinned excitedly, "What a pleasure to see you again."

"Wendy, go back into the bathroom."

She snapped her gaze up at Henry with a disapproving scowl. "You're mad if you think I'd leave you alone with him."

"Always one for the flattery," Peter quipped.

Henry leaned forward, blocking a larger space between Peter and Wendy. "Say what you need to say to me, and get out."

Peter crossed his arms, "I've come with a proposition for you."

"If you're still after my heart, forget it-"

He raised his hand, eyes darkening again as the seriousness settled back into his features. "This matter is in regards your family, or rather at the moment, lack thereof."

"I don't understand," Wendy frowned. "Why does the fate of our family concern you?"

"It doesn't." Henry sucked in a deep breath, eyes narrowing at the boy standing ahead of them. "This isn't about my family; it's about my sister."

"Elizabeth," Wendy repeated lightly, unable to understand the bitter twist of a frown curling at the edge of Peter's lip from the mere utterance of her name.

"Surely you're not surprised I've come in light of the recent events."

"Whatever plan you have, forget it. This family's lost too much as it is."

"Even if it meant saving your sister from utter ruin, resurrecting the Captain, and perhaps even the Dark One's beloved Adam?" The glint of attention alighted in Henry's eyes, as Peter knew it would. "I know you, Henry. You're not one to keep sidelined. I have a plan, but in order for it to work, I'll need you to play your part."

Henry knew the risks when making a deal with a devil like Pan. There were games at work, tricks and lies to deceive those Pan could fool too easily. This could be a ploy, but then again, the pieces didn't quite add up.

To the untrained eye Peter looked like a youthful teenager; however, Henry could spot the subtle difference of a few years of age. Peter had grown. There was something odd about his demeanor; the faintest hint of misplaced maturity when his youthful glee faded to hardened seriousness. This could only mean he left Neverland, which seemed like an impossibility until Henry considered the part his adventurous little sister likely played in all this. _Of course_.

"What's in this for you?"

Peter shifted his weight while he furrowed his brow in impatience. "Let's not ask questions we already know the answer to. It's a simple yes or no, are you ready to put that truest believer's heart of yours to work?" He opened his outstretched hand, offering out a milky white magic bean. Wendy's grip around Henry's forearm tightened as he eyed the bean suspiciously.

Henry looked up at Pan in his moment of deliberation, feeling Wendy's urges for him to deny the offer through her trembling grasp. Another moment passed by before he let out a sigh of defeat, eyes weakening in resolve as he reached out an accepted the bean. "Tell me what I have to do."

* * *

Killian awoke in a room engulfed in sheer blackness, with nothing more than a single thin beam of light shining through the ceiling boards above. _Was this death? Had his father already served his sentence, not even allotting him the courtesy of showing his face? Coward._

He flinched forward, only then restricted by what felt like iron shackles holding him against a hard wood wall. He was on his knees – a shallow pool of sea water sloshed halfway up his thigh with every tilt of the anchored ship. Killian dropped his head when the immediate wave of aching pain surged over him. He winced his eyes shut and let out a deep groan, feeling worse than any hangover he had experienced in his couple centuries as a pirate.

The door on the far end of the room opened; the bright light of the corridor leaked in to show a disturbingly large silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. The shadowed frame of the man's clothing gave way all subtlety to the his identity: thick boots, heavy leather coat trailing down at the heels, grandiose pirate hat. "Bloody fucking hell," Killian murmured while lowering his gaze.

The Captain silently took his first few steps into the room before closing the door behind, sealing off the yellow candle light from the hallway. He let out a dark, hearty chuckle when immersed in the soothe of darkness. Killian listened as the heavy steps approached closer until finally they splashed into the pool of water set around his legs.

The Captain stopped short just a few feet away. He paused in silence, as if he were waiting for Killian to start the conversation first. Much to his dismay, all he could have a good look at was the roots of his son's dark hair, bowed down to the floorboards of his ship.

"It's rude not to look a man in the eye." The Captain muttered evenly, his deep voice laced with a hint of annoyance. Killian swallowed back his nerves and kept his face to the ground, too stubborn to raise his eyes any further than the lace of the Captain's boots.

The Captain stood there for another moment, enduring the silence between him and his youngest son chained to the wall. "No? You've nothing to say to me, not even a ceremonious greeting to your own father, after all these years?" A twisted smirk curved up the sides of the Captain's cheek. "Well then, you've certainly made my job all the more easier."

Letting out an exhausted huff, Killian titled his head to the side to leer his gaze up at the center of the Captain's chest, "Spare me your foreplay."

He chuckled before kneeling down into the dark water, evening at level with him. "I can't express enough how delighted I am to finally see you, after all your years of evading me, chained up like a ruddy little child in the deepest depths of my ship."

"It's curious – considering the many years I've spent on the sea why it's taken you so long to kill me."

The Captain's nose crinkled upwards in revulsion, his eyes darkening into two storms to match those of his brooding son's. "You've got your mother to thank for that."

Killian chuckled dryly, "I'll be sure to extend my gratitude the next time I see her."

Without warning, the Captain reached out and smacked the side of his head. He stood up, once again towering over Killian's shackled pitiful state. "After all the years of stress you've given me, I've decided I won't be letting you off so easy. You're due for some suffering."

"If that be the case, by all means, continue your drawling."

The Captain took a step closer to where Killian knelt, an unspoken threat suddenly cast over Killian through the ice of his cold glare. "You'd do well to learn your place on this ship, boy, especially now that it's been graced with the presence of your daughter."

Killian's gaze finally sharpened into the eyes of his father, anger wordlessly fueling his challenging stare. The Captain laughed, "What, you honestly believed she would evade me? Your efforts to protect her were charming though futile."

"What have you done with her?"

"She a feisty little thing," the Captain's eyes alighted in mock excitement, "and quite a beauty. Her mother must be a sight to behold. The crew will certainly take a liking to Elizabeth. It's been a while since the men have seen a fresh pair of legs walking aboard the ship."

Killian jerked aggressively against his iron bonds, eyes fueled by the fire of his surging anger. "If you so much as lay a hand on her..."

"You'll what, curse me through the ship floorboards?" The Captain mocked. "No. You'll remain where you are and you will _watch_ and you will _listen_ as I tear down each and every pedestal you've raised for your daughter. Soon there will be nothing left of her but a frozen heart and an insatiable desire to control all those around her with magic. She'll take my place as Captain, and then, _only then_ in my final act as Captain, will I grant you the mercy of death." He finally took a step back from Killian, satisfied with the rattled look of angered trauma he inflicted. "Your mother was just fooling herself when she made you to be my undoing."

Killian growled like a ravaged watchdog, eyes still trained on the turning backside of his father as he walked out of the gleam of light into the shadows.

* * *

The brig was cold in the latest hour of night. Adam kept quiet and still, continuously fighting a silent battle against the shivers quaking through his body beneath his ocean-soaked cloak. Despite all his fretting he knew that he needed to sleep or at least give off the impression. There was no point staying awake, especially with the infuriating company of the cellmate, the pirate. The woman sitting across his cell, also entrapped within a wall of iron bars, had gone quiet earlier in the night. Adam figured she was just lucky enough to find a way to sleep. Perhaps with time, if that was to be his fate, he would learn to ignore the cold and sleep through it.

The door to the brig suddenly squeaked open, the echoes of the grinding rusted bolts accompanied the already prevalent chills running up Adam's back. He heard a soft exchange of deep voices before a single set of footsteps approached the cell chambers.

Adam kept his eyes convincingly shut in sleep, managing to barely crack his gaze out through his eyelashes to see a man walking past the jail cells. He wasn't dressed as a pirate, but rather, as an officer of some sort. Adam had read enough books on the kingdoms' histories to recognize a naval uniform when he saw one; however much to his surprise, he could not identify the origin of this uniform with anything he had ever come across in his readings. The stranger's dark blue coat appeared to be tattered with antiquity, while the golden epaulets faded from their former vibrance. The stranger's white uniform pants were covered in blotches and stains from a long time at sea. His hair was unruly in dark, knotted curls.

Adam kept quiet as the stranger surveyed the jail cells before stopping short of the woman's. He tapped on the iron bar, "Wake up."

After the passing of a few uncomfortable seconds, Adam heard the woman stir in her cell. "What are you doing here?"

"Get up, I need you." The stranger ordered gently as he twisted the lock of the cell door free.

"What, what are you talking about?"

"I can't explain here. You'll just have to trust me." The stranger reached out for the woman's hand.

"If you don't take his hand, I will," the Pirate lying in the cell beside Adam muttered with bemused sarcasm. "It's no fun to keep secrets, mate."

"Hold your tongue, Sparrow," The stranger suddenly snapped, exerting an authoritative tone over the filthy slumming figure curled in his cell. "You'll not speak a word of this to your cellmate, are we clear?"

With the mentioning directed to Adam, he was careful to remain absolutely still without the faintest hint of his consciousness. He heard the pirate chuckle, "Aye, crystal."

The woman tentatively accepted the offer of the stranger's hand, slowly stepping out of her cell to trail him leading her out back towards the door. He could see her eyes focused on him, bewildered by his peculiar behavior though nonetheless trusting.

* * *

There was a massing crowd of men gathering on the main deck of the Dutchman to witness another lashing. Scathed in their marks of labor, each of the pirates rubbed up against each other to make room to watch; their skin mixing together their sweat, sea spray, filth, and in some cases, even their blood. All of these men, sailors and pirates alike, skated the thin surface of making an error throughout the time of their shift. Though most of these men had spent decades aboard the Dutchman designated with the same tasks, the demand of precision when tying each individual knot and running the checks through the inspections always left room for error.

The man wielding the whip was a gruesome pirate to behold. Thin individual strands of silvering blonde hair were pushed back over his balding forehead blemished in age spots. The unevenness of his facial stubble portrayed him to appear curiously off-balance while his bushy eyebrows blanketed over his two grey irises. Leaning back against the rail of the deck, his beer belly peeked through the hem of his tight white stained t-shirt, revealing an alarming cover of chest hair glistening in sweat. He smirked maliciously as men tied the lanky pirate up to the foremast ahead of him, his body stretched to give him the best angle at his bare back for proper whippings.

The mass of pirates crowded around the display, eager to get their fill of the daily whippings, thankful that this time it wasn't them.

Masterfully blended in with the crowds of pirates, the Lost Boys all took their positions with ease. Though they did not stand close enough to be noticed by association, each of the boys kept in sight of the other to be sure that they were all on the same page. Disguised in tattered rags and filth, Felix wore the disguise best. His hardened expression and tall height provided him with the perfect elements of disguise.

Felix slowly wormed his way through the crowd of men to get the closest to the punishment. When the first whip-crack went off, Felix felt a sudden chill of adrenaline course through him. He grinned silently as the men around him cheered at the brutality of the punishment.

The second whip crack went off, followed by another wave of cheers. "What a marvelous little show," Felix heard Peter mutter behind him. He turned, though at first he was unable to recognize the boy standing in front of him deftly disguised out of his usual attire. Dressed in a loosely fitted jacket and ragged white undershirt, Peter hid his mischievous grin beneath the dark shadow cast under his pirate hat and smeared layer of filth over his skin. The ends of his golden hair perked out from his brown leather hat.

Felix smiled, "I was wondering when you'd make an appearance."

"I was delayed with a bit of business," Peter answered cooly while peering up above the crowd of heads to catch sight of the pirate still tied to the pole, his back gushing under deep lines of hot crimson. "I hope I haven't missed out on too much of the fun."

"Nothing's happened yet. We haven't even seen the Captain. You didn't tell us the ship was five times the size of any normal pirate ship."

"More room to play," Peter tilted his head at Felix with a knowing smirk. "How is Elizabeth?"

"For now they're keeping her in the Quarters, but she won't be staying there for long. My guess is that they'll move her to the brig when all this settles."

Peter nodded, his attention still grasped by the exhilaration of the whip licking dark lashes into the pirate's back. "As long as she remains clear of his rabble, she'll be safe. For the time being, it would be best that she is not made aware of our presence aboard, not until our plan goes into motion."

"Which is when..."

"I've got a few key players we're currently waiting on. It will be a few days, four or five at most, before we have our way with the Dutchman. Until then we pass the time with a bit of fun, perhaps with a few of our old games."

Felix grinned, pressing his tongue against the wall of his cheek, "Just like the glory days."

Peter leaned back on his heels to catch sight of the other Lost Boys looking at him through the crowd, waiting for instruction. He gave a quick nod towards the door leading below deck, "I've stayed away from the Dutchman long enough. It's time for our work to begin."

* * *

"Enough of your secrets, where are you taking me?" The woman demanded as the man led out from the brig and up the stairwell to the upper decks of the ship. She hated venturing further than she had to, especially if it meant crossing the crew during the cover of darkness. Though at least in the company of another, she wouldn't have to worry about any sort of ambush from the crew, sick thirsty masochistic pigs that they were.

He continued to lead her along, keeping a persistent hold on her hand as he rounded the end of the stairwell into the maze of hallways.

"We're almost there," he stated plainly, not bothering to look back to notice her confusion. Finally they rounded the last corner to the back entrance of the Captain's Quarters.

"No," she growled and immediately pulled back from his grasp. "I won't go in there, you can't make me."

"He's not in there. I wouldn't ask that of you," The man answered in a soothing reassurance.

"Then who is? What's all this about?"

"Listen to me. There is a girl in there who needs to be cared for. She has suffered a great deal in the past few hours. I need you to go in there, calm her down, and escort her back the way you came to the brig. She will be safe there for the time being. My father has sent for one of his men to bring her downstairs, so it wouldn't be any different if you were to take her. I just need to go in there and offer some support."

"If she's all that important, why don't you go in yourself?"

"I can't break the Captain's orders. He has forbidden me to enter."

"The Captain's forbidden you entering, so you figure to ask me?" She crossed her arms with a light sneer, "Is this some sort of joke? Are you trying to have me killed?"

"This girl means more to you than you know," he answered cooly. "I insist you do me this one favor. He wouldn't care if it was you, just so long as it's not me. Please, just this once."

"Are you mad-"

"Milah," the man pressed urgently. "I am telling you to just go in there and see her for yourself. I can keep my father occupied long enough to bring the girl downstairs. Believe me, you'll thank me later for this."

The woman darted her eyes skeptically at the closed-door to the Captain's Quarters, then back at the man. "You owe me for this, Liam," she muttered bluntly before reaching for the iron bar welded over the door to the Captain's Quarters.


	11. Chapter 11

Milah gently opened the door to the shadowed quarters, the hinges let off a chilling squeal in protest to the rust that had accumulated from its age. She leaned her head in, careful not to overstep her boundaries. Asides from the tremble and creak of the Dutchman as it swayed against the ocean current, the room was quiet in its vacancy.

"Hello?" She spoke out nervously. Darting her blue eyes back and forth through the darkness of the cabin, she finally came across a huddled figure perched over the corner of the bed. "Hello?" Milah repeated herself quietly, approaching the bedside with slow, steady steps.

She noticed the outline of the mysterious figure to look up towards her presence. Huddled with arms tucking her knees into her chest, Elizabeth squinted through the darkness in an effort to recognize the woman. "Hello?" Lizzie mumbled softly under her breath.

Milah turned to the bedside stand and felt for the nearest match and candle. Having the thin unused stick in hand, she struck it against the edge of the metal headboard to the bed, alighting the end of the match and casting an essence of light between them. She flinched back when catching her first glimpse of the girl, almost dropping the match in a horrified shock. Despite the girl's haggard appearance in her tattered clothing and sickly pale grimace, there was something so strikingly familiar that set Milah on edge.

_ Those sea blue eyes._ _The unique crinkle of her brow as she squints._ The girl bore the same gaze that had haunted her for centuries since her death: the pained, defeated gaze that Milah took her final breath looking upon.

"What is your name, child?" Milah inquired in as gentle manner as she could muster, though the gears were already clicking in her head regarding Liam's curious behavior. _No, this was impossible._

"Elizabeth," she answered faintly. Her eyes fluttered against the light with fatigue. "Elizabeth Mary Swan. Who are you?"

_Not Jones, she wasn't a Jones._

"My name is of little importance to you. Just know that I am a friend." She spoke quickly with a tender smile, encouraged by the subtle widening of Elizabeth's vulnerable gaze. The match began to die down as the flame began to burn her pinched grip. Milah turned in search for any candle of sorts, finding an assortment of different wax sticks scattered over the nearby desk. She quickly transferred the flame to the candle, allowing for a stronger glow and larger span of light.

Elizabeth turned away from the light of the candle, already having adjusted to the darkness of the captain's quarters. "I'm not entirely sure what it means to have a friend on board."

"I've been given orders to escort you to the lower levels of the ship," Milah offered out her hand to the girl. "Don't be frightened, child. I will not harm you."

"You mean the brig?" She raised her brow up at the woman standing before her.

"What makes you assume the brig?" Milah smiled.

"My father's made it my business to know about ships. The brig is on the lower level of the ship, and asides from here, it's probably the safest place for me." Elizabeth muttered lowly while taking the woman's outstretched hand.

"Your father taught you all this?" She questioned uneasily.

"Yeah," Elizabeth stumbled at first before finding a sense of balance. "I'm guessing most people aboard this ship wouldn't of had the best relationship with him. Most pirates still refer to him by his long-termed nickname, Hook. He was Killian long before then, and I guess since recently when he had me."

A sudden urgency took precedence in Milah as she grabbed the girl's shoulder, turning her to look head-on. Milah felt her heart skip at the recognized resemblance; the years had faded her recollection of the fine physical details branding her lost love, Killian Jones. Now they were there in Elizabeth's features, his same eyes staring back with the same vibrant energy and color. Feeling her mouth run dry, Milah sucked a sharp gasp of air through her nostrils. Her hand was now shaking, suddenly layered in a thin grime of nervous sweat as she reached out towards Elizabeth's face, pressing her fingers along the side of her jaw as if the girl wasn't real. "Your father is Killian Jones?"

"Uh, yeah," Elizabeth muttered with a distrusting glare down at the woman's intrusive finger, unsettled by her clear lack of personal space. "I take it you've heard of him."

A subtle smile crept up Milah's cheek, "It's been a long time."

"Yeah, well, he's been around for a while." Elizabeth muttered slowly, turning her attention back towards the closed doorway. "So are you leading me out of here, or what? I've personally had enough of this dark."

"Oh... yes," Milah nodded as she let out a nervous, choked laugh. "Yes, just... just remember to stay close by me. The ship is a bit of a maze. Wandering out on your own spells for nothing short of trouble." Putting an arm around Elizabeth's shoulder, Milah opened the door that led out into the Dutchman hallway near the stairwell.

* * *

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" Emma muttered dishearteningly, scanning the shoreline of the bleak harbor for any sign of a rocky relief. Belle and Rumple walked a short distance behind, both intently studying the inscriptions of the map within her hardcover book. Emma observed the beach shore, up towards the line of merchant shacks lining an old wooden walkway. The houses were all weathered and run-down, showing no evidence of care for many years. There were people scattered in the area; some of which lounged outside their doorsteps while others leisurely walked about the merchant docks. The overcast of the sky shadowed over the quaint harbor town. The grey light weighted a somberness down onto the sea folk. Despite the shrill caw of gulls overhead and the gentle lick of the tide stretching over the shore, not a sound could be attributed to the inhabitants of the dreary settlement.

"According to what it says here in the book," Belle gestured down to the map inscribed on the old, yellowed pages. "Calypso's cavern shouldn't be far from where we are now."

"There are no mountains or caverns or anything remotely close to what it describes in the book," Emma complained, squinting out into the horizon of the shoreline in search of any indication suggesting caverns. "Maybe there's another beach somewhere on the other side?"

"There is no other side," Belle spoke calmly. "Do you think it might help to ask? Surely someone here might know a thing or two about the legend at least."

Rumple held the edge of the book while peering up at Emma with a hint of annoyance. "Calypso wouldn't be so foolish as to let just anyone enter her cavern. This is just another riddle to solve. These peasants would be of no use to us."

"By riddle, you mean finding a cave where there are no rocks?" Emma growled. "Beyond this beach, there are just grassy hills."

"Emma," Belle called out and nodded up ahead. Walking a short distance away from where Emma was, a cloaked figure seemed to be making its way towards the ocean shore. Hunched over and clothed in a large brown cloak, the figure seemed uninterested by the foreign party and more so on the scattered pieces of sea glass and shards of shells littering the shore.

"Hey," Emma called out though got no satisfaction through an answer. "Hey!" She repeated, this time taking the first steps toward the figure. Leaving Rumple and Belle behind, Emma jogged a towards the short stranger. "Could you help us?"

Sheltered beneath the veil of her cloak, the figure peered up at Emma to reveal her disturbingly old physique. It was one thing to meet an old woman on the shore, in fact it came quiet often on the beach closest to where Emma and Killian resided. Though the decrepit condition of this woman was almost inhuman; her skin seemingly _rotting_ where it dangled off her cheeks. Her skin, sagged and spotted from the wearing of time, bundled in layers under her eyes, along her forehead and into her deep dimples. Single strands of silvery wiry hair perked out from her hood. The deathly white shade of the woman's skin and animus curl of her scowling lip unsettled Emma significantly. She had seen plenty of bums in her day, whether it be from her early career as a bail bondsman, living a year in New York City, or the first few years reestablishing the underprivileged forest settlements in the kingdom. The effect that this woman had on her was different; it was impossibly bothersome, as if she bore some magical quality about her meant to intentionally unnerve anyone that approached her.

"I'm... sorry," she answered quickly. The old woman's silent threatening glare had an existential effect on Emma's comfort, unnerving her to the point where she felt she _had_ to take a step back.

She turned, unable to understand how she had just shied away so easily. Belle finally caught up to her, with Rumple warily trailing her sand footprints. "Emma, why are you..." her voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the woman's disturbingly haggard physique.

"We can ask anyone else from the village," Emma muttered uneasily, "it doesn't have to be her." Belle calmly stepped around Emma in silence, keeping her intent gaze on the cloaked figure as she approached with the book in hand.

"Excuse me, ma'm?" She called out gently. The old figure turned again, this time pursing her lips in annoyance from the badgering of these strangers. Belle was seemingly immune to the disturbing degradation, keeping a warm pleasant smile when addressing the sickly woman. "I was wondering if perhaps you could tell us where we might find this cavern?" Belle pointed down to the page where Calypso's cavern was circled. The old woman peered up at Belle with a skeptical glare, her drooping flesh just barely perking her hairless brow line up with distrust.

Standing behind Belle, Emma kept quiet with her eyes kept trained on her counterpart's curious gentleness towards the scowling woman. Rather than offer Belle an answer, the old woman peered up around Belle straight at Emma, burning a scathing glare of disapproval towards her. "Oh there's no need to worry about her. She's a friend."

The woman glanced at Belle, surprisingly accepting her word over Emma's _are-you-kidding-me_ gawking glare. At this point, anything on Emma's radar could serve to irritate her better composure. Before making any indication on the map, the old woman again peered up around Belle, this time settling her ice cold glare at Rumple. Stopping dead in his tracks, Rumple kept quiet when making some strange unspoken recognition in the face. The narrow threat peeking out through the sagging bags of the old woman's face was enough to freeze him to absolute stillness, his brown eyes widening in a look of sheer horror. "He's not coming with us," Belle assured the old woman. "We know it's best not to mix fire with fire, so he's just here to help us along our way. He'll be of no trouble here, I assure you."

The old woman fixed her glare up at Belle, observing the unbiased warmth from her tender heart. Without a word, she raised her wrinkled hand out into the sea.

Belle followed the direction of her hand to nothing but sheer blue ocean horizon. "We're actually looking for a cavern. You know, more like a cave..." She tried pointing back at the map, though the old woman seemed uninterested in anything being said. She kept her finger stubbornly pointed out into the ocean, unyielding to Belle's misunderstanding.

Emma blinked in revelation, "Hold on, what if that's it? That's the secret to finding the cavern, it's hidden underwater."

"But that would be impossible, wouldn't it...?" Belle turned for confirmation from Rumple, though found no sign of him anywhere along the beach.

"Well that was quick."

Belle shrugged, "He did say he wanted to avoid Calypso. Obviously we're close. All that's left to do is to discover _where_ along the shore we're supposed to enter...-" Emma gently grabbed Belle's arm in silence, eyes now wide in horror, as she looked beyond where Belle stood. Following Emma's gaze Belle turned to find the haggard old woman they had just spoken to, walking out into the ocean.

Emma frowned, "I get the feeling we're supposed to follow her..."

* * *

Liam dragged his feet into his cabin, without so much as a word to his other crew mates that he was done for day. It wasn't like he had to answer to any of the other crew mates on board, he just tried to enforce the habits of a good sailor to the rest of the disheartened folk aboard. He shrugged out of his stiff jacket, tossing it over the overarching metal coat hook jutting out from the wall.

After having a moment to his thoughts, it occurred to Liam that the candle sitting over his desk was already lit. Dribbles of wax had already dripped off the edge of its metal holder, suggesting that someone had been in his room a little while beforehand. He faltered when he finally noticed the boy, a cabin boy by the looks of it, sitting comfortably in the wooden chair besides his dresser.

"Sorry," the boy cocked his head to the side. "I didn't realize this cabin was already occupied."

"Was the assortment of furniture not enough of an indicator that...-" his voice trailed off as the recognition of the boy suddenly came to him. Though he was masterfully disguised to conceal most of his boyish features, Liam had not forgotten that boy's face since his death aboard the Roger. "I remember you," Liam stated softly, earning a subtle grin from Peter under the shadow of his pirate hat. "You were the boy from Neverland, the one who spoke of the dream shade."

"And what a shame it was that you didn't take my advice," Peter raised his brow, immediately throwing out the charade as he casually crossed his arms over his ragged pirate shirt.

"I admit to my arrogance. It was wrong to question you, even at so young an age. I've paid dearly for the consequence of my mistakes."

Peter nodded to the effects of Liam's cramped living space. "By the looks of your circumstance, I'd say you're not quite finished with that payment. What did your father tell you, a few hundred years?"

"I've been given my sentence the same as any sailor aboard: one century served aboard the Dutchman."

"One century?" Peter chuckled with a manic grin. "Is that all?" Liam frowned in confusion. "It's been much longer than a century, _mate_. You've been dead for a number of years just short of half a millennium. Did your father bend the rules without informing his dear crew?"

"He wouldn't betray our vows," Liam scowled. "My father may be may things, but a liar is not amongst them. His deal stands with all of his crew mates: one hundred years."

Peter leaned back against the edge of the wooden beam, crossing his leg over the other while bearing a mischievous grin. "Don't try to fool yourself, of course he lied. Without you, what else is there for him to hold on to? All those many years, wasted, just because it took your brother a few centuries before he came around and finally procreated."

"Leave Killian out of this," Liam refuted. "He never had a part in our father's affairs."

"Never had a part?" Peter recoiled, "Your father is withholding more secrets from you than I count on my two hands." Uncrossing his arms, Peter stretched out his fingers.

Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I will not allow you to come onto this ship and spout lies about the only flesh and blood I've got left to my name."

"You want to see a good lie? Venture down to the lower decks of the stern. You'll find the door at the end of the final corridor locked and well-guarded by your fellow crew mates. Go and see for yourself what your father's been keeping from you, all locked up and hidden away from your prying eyes."

"I don't take orders from some juvenile brat."

"No," Peter nodded in a hushed whisper, "just from your tyrannical father." Liam dropped his head to avert his scalding, angry glare. Leaning over the edge of the table, Peter peered down to the fallen Captain with focused persistence. "I would have thought you learned your lesson the first time you disregarded my advice," Peter glared with a brooding annoyance. "Perhaps you're even thicker than you look."

Liam stood from his chair, anger radiating from his heated scowl. "I want you off this ship."

The boy scoffed lightly, swaying a few steps around the table towards the door. "You've got plenty of flesh and blood right here on the Dutchman. I'd say it's time you start embracing a bit of reality, _Captain_, before it's too late. If you want answers, you know where to look. I assure you, it will be as much of a reward as it will be a letdown."

Liam glowered at Peter as the boy turned the knob of the door. The boy hesitated just before he took his leave, flashing one final grin. "I suggest you think your priorities over in the next few days, Captain. You might realize that not everything it what it seems on this ship." The boy departed without offering another word, leaving Liam with nothing but the lingering echo of his cryptic message.

* * *

Milah quietly led Elizabeth to the nearest cell on the opposing side of the brig. Lizzie peered into the cell that was beside hers to notice the balled outline of a person huddled in sleep at the furthest corner of his cell.

"You've lucked out," Milah muttered as she closed the gate of Elizabeth's cell. "Treasure the silence while he's still asleep." She nodded down at the pirate huddled unconscious. It took Elizabeth to really get a good glimpse of him to recognize his twisted dreads, soiled clothing and braided twists of chin hair; he was that pirate, the same pirate that caused _all_ of her woes and struggles in the past week.

She ground her teeth together while her blunt-edged nails pressed crescent moons into her palms. Her vision scalded red as she glared burning holes into the bowed head of the slumbering pirate. Before she had a chance to speak any ill will towards her despised figure of prey, another head perked up from the cell on the opposite side of the pirate's, two cells away from Lizzie.

"Elizabeth?" Adam muttered in disbelief.

She looked up at the boy, staring straight through him in plain denial before the bitter realization set in. "No," Lizzie muttered under her breath, her frown already curving downwards with the bitter taste of an impending sob. "Oh, no. Please, God no."

"Lizzie," Adam spoke slowly, his bright blue gaze softening beneath the wet chestnut brown curls dangling over his face. "It's alright. I'm alright."

"No," Lizzie choked out. "You can't be here. If you're here... then that means... that just means you're..."

"Lizzie," Adam's voice softened in a calmed whisper meaning to lull her nerves, "It's alright." He leaned up against the bars, worried when Elizabeth sank down against the wall out of his line of sight. "Lizzie, I swear it's alright. I'm here now. We'll get through this."

"No, no, no," Elizabeth whimpered softly to herself in her own cell. "Adam, I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Her voice was hoarse, the entire brig echoing with the first release of her pent up tears. Observing the exchange from across the hall, Milah frowned when Adam struggled to keep sight of her, going as far as climbing the square bars of his cell.

"Lizzie, look at me! I'll be alright!" Adam raised his voice, his knuckles going white from the sheer force of his grip.

"Oh would the both of you just _shut_ _it_." The pirate between the two cells growled in his huddled position. He lifted his head just high enough to catch a glimpse of the girl sitting against the bars beside his own cell. Elizabeth glared back, the fire rekindling in her watery ice-blue glare. He chuckled, "If there's anything this lass needs more than mediation, it's a drink."

"Leave her be, Jack" Adam growled.

Ignoring Adam's threatening tone, Jack Sparrow scooted his way across his prison space closer to the bars separating him from Elizabeth. He pulled out the flask hidden under the waistband of his pants. "Care for a drink?" He smirked teasingly, raising the flask to his lips to enjoy the burn of his own rum.

Elizabeth reached through the bars in a flash, quickly gripping onto the lapel of his collar and yanking him forward. His head smashed against the metal bars hard, earning a pained groan as he dropped the flash to grip the bleeding gash along his forehead. Elizabeth retrieved the flask from the wet floor, pulling it back into her own cell. She eagerly took a momentous swig of rum from the flask.

"Oi!" Jack glared up from under his hand, which wasn't doing much to stop the dribbles of hot crimson to seep through his filthy fingers. "Give that back."

Her eyebrows perked, "You want your rum back?" She gestured to the flash before taking one final swig. Maintaining her smug smirk towards the shriveling pirate, she reached out with the flask and began to dump the rum out onto the floor.

"That won't do any good," Adam mumbled from his cell. "The flask's enchanted. It'll just keep refilling itself."

Jack grinned, "That way the rum's never gone. You'll do nothing but drown your clothes in hard liquor, which of course wouldn't bother me in the slightest."

Elizabeth's furious gaze narrowed in disgust. Pulling her attention away from him and down to the actual flask, she felt the metal container begin to chill in her grasp. Her anger burned in her center, and for the first time since coming aboard, she embraced it. All of her emotions which had just been too overwhelming to handle were now being channeled straight through her palms and into the contact of the flask.

Jack frowned with confusion as to what exactly she was trying to accomplish, though soon caught on when the droplets of water lining the outside of the flask began to crystalize as ice. "Hey! Oi! Stop that!" He lunged out against the bars, trying desperately to reach where Lizzie lounged against the wall. She didn't bother to look up. Her eyes remained narrowed, an amused grin crept up her cheeks as the flask was magically turned into a hardened ice block. "You want your rum back? Here." She tossed it through the bars into the puddle sloshing over the floor. The growing ache of her insides were temporarily sated by her use of magic. Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered as the short-lived euphoric splendor washed over her.

"Bloody wench," he muttered under his breath as he immediately started to hit the flask against the metal bars of the cell in an effort to thaw it.

Elizabeth reached up to her chest instinctively, grasping ahold of the sparkling pendent sitting over her chest. Her thumb caressed the side of the charm. Despite the physical splendor that came with using her magic as a release, she couldn't help silence the screams echoing in her mind.

_Peter, where are you?_

She waited for any response, any indicator that he could answer her. _Surely he could figure a way onto the ship? _

Her first encounter with Captain Davy Jones' affirmed otherwise. This wasn't just some random vessel that could be conquered by a naval fleet, this was the Dutchman. As much credit as she'd like to give her father, sneaking onto the Dutchman was a completely different realm than climbing aboard the Roger. Davy Jones was the all-powerful ruler, and the Dutchman was his Neverland. He made the rules here, rules even Peter Pan would have trouble stepping over. _And honestly, how far would Peter really go to save her if it meant jeopardizing his life?_

Elizabeth swallowed, gripping her pendent tighter when the lack of response from the enchanted necklace gave her no assurance. _Who was she kidding? She was alone. Peter was probably already back in Neverland at this point._

The door to the brig squealed open down the far end of the hallway. Milah leaned her head up with an eager curiosity, while Adam stepped up to the bars to get a better look. Even Jack paused his incessant pounding of his flask to take note of what the men had to bring. A small group of four men walked down the hall to their cells carrying trays of soiled bread and a mound of unrecognizable mush branded as food. It took her a moment before Elizabeth gathered enough sense to look up at the deliverer standing idly outside her cell carrying her tray.

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, silent in her reaction of recognizing _Felix_. He wore his disguise perfectly, fashioning a pair of dark buckled boots, tattered suede leather pants, a loose white under shirt already marked in stains, and random smears of filth covering his skin normally just coarse by his scars. He smirked, and with a short tilt of his head, he silently lowered the food beneath the bars of her cell.

Elizabeth watched him take his leave with the other oblivious pirates, stealthy in his manner of upholding his charade. Just as he stepped out from Elizabeth's sight, she felt the heart of the necklace begin to heat against her skin. She smiled excitedly, letting her forefinger dance along the warming metal side. The tickle of the pendent's heat grew hotter and hotter, making it quite clear that Felix wasn't the only one close by.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I made this chapter is longer than usual to make up for it.**

* * *

"Get up." The metal hinge to Elizabeth's cell squealed open as the guard pulled the heavy lever free. Elizabeth cocked her head up ever so slightly, her eyes still half squinted shut from sleep. The pirate glared down at her with a solemn frown. "I won't tell you again, girl. Up."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes while struggling to pull herself up by the nearby metal cell bars. Only she tried to maneuver her weight to her feet did she feel it; the heavy weight massing in the center of her chest. She shivered as she pulled her body up firmly against the bars. "It's freezing in here."

"My, what a lovely sight to wake to," Jack grinned up at Elizabeth lazily from the other end of his cell. He was slumped in the far corner. The only glint of light came from the reflection in his eyes hidden beneath the dark shadow of eyeliner.

"Bite me, Sparrow," she muttered while taking uneven strides towards the cell door.

"Name the time and place, darling."

Suddenly a hand reached out through the cell bars Jack was leaning against, gripping a firm hold on his shirt. Before Jack could turn, Adam yanked the pirate hard against the bars of the cell. His head smacked into the metal cell, reopening the scabbing wound along his temple that Elizabeth had made the following day. "I'm not huge on vulgarities in the morning, pirate. Keep your mouth shut," Adam growled. Jack sank back onto his knees with a pained grumble.

Elizabeth turned and smirked at Adam, relieved that his fiery spirit had yet to go out. Before Adam had a chance to look back up at her, the prison guard aggressively whipped Elizabeth around by the shoulder and led her towards the stairwell.

* * *

Belle headed out after the cloaked woman first, followed by Emma. Both women quickly sloshed through the shallow crashes of tide until they reached deeper depths, forcing them to slow down and drag their feet to keep up their pace. They kept their eyes focused on the woman ahead as her hooded top sank completely underwater.

"You sure about this?" Emma huffed after Belle, who kept her eyes trained ahead to the spot where the old woman went under.

"Yes," Belle answered breathily. "This has to be it."

The water level crept up on the two of them as they strode deeper and deeper into the sea. Belle slowed when she felt the edge of the drop-off curl at her toes. Taking another step would sink her down underwater, to god knows how deep. Emma caught up with her, standing at her side with her jaw hanging open to catch her breath. Belle looked down into the black blue ocean below. Her doubts began to creep through her stubbornly held determination.

Emma looked over to Belle, who was eyeing the water wearily. "Hey," Emma frowned, "We're not stopping now. We can't. After coming all this way, we need to at least see what's down there." She pulled her hand up from out of the water and offered her palm to Belle. "On the count of three, we go down together. Alright?" After another moment of hesitation, Belle smiled grimly and took Emma's hand. "One... two... three."

They took their last step forward, feeling nothing but emptiness beneath their feet as they descended down below the surface. A mystical pull took hold of them, dragging them further down into the dark abyss.

Emma snapped her head up to look back at the surface. The faint glistening ball of sunlight was dimming away, surrounding her on all side with sheer blackness. She could no longer see Belle in the lack of light. Her squeezing grip around her hand was the only reassurance she held onto that she wasn't alone, that at least she wasn't the only one crazy enough to follow a decrepit hag into the dark depths of the ocean. A forced gulp and spout of air bubbles erupted out from Belle's mouth and suddenly she convulsed back to let out pained coughs. She could hear the choked echoes of Belle's voice as she continued to push out the water drowning her lungs.

Emma suddenly felt the magical pull on their legs strengthen. They descended deeper; faster and faster until the water made it past Emma's resistance and flooded her nasal cavity.

The two woman convulsed as the battled the water seeping into their lungs, only to be pulled further down, impossibly away from the surface.

Their feet suddenly made contact with a thick substance that slowed them almost to a halt. Their bodies tardily seeped through the magical gel barrier, only then to be released down from the roof of a spacious rocky cavern. They collapsed down onto the rocks, their bodies ungracefully slamming into the unforgiving edges of the jutting boulders. Finally reaching the flat surface of the cavern floor, Emma and Belle both rolled to their sides while violently coughing out the seawater lodged in their lungs. Their sides ached from the lack of oxygen, as well as the newly inflicted fractures from their fall.

Emma slumped back, wincing her eyes shut to stomach the pain stabbing all along her skin. She could feel where her ribs were likely cracked; every breath was a stabbing ache almost too unbearable to endure.

"Emma," Belle murmured, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she muttered lowly. Her heart slowed back to a healthy pulse when the air had been returned to her lungs. "What about you? You make it out okay?"

Belle shrugged while painfully rolling over. She reached out to grab the nearest edge of the boulder as a means to support her weight while trying to make the effort to at least sit up. "It's nothing Rumple can't fix with the wave of his hand."

"Yeah," Emma scoffed, still wincing as she too made the effort to stand. "I can knock people on their asses no problem, but I'm still a little lost with handling injuries."

Belle smiled weakly before turning to survey the cavern. The roof of the rocky enclosure towered high, and was alighted by the glimmering reflection of the central watery pool. A crashing fall of ocean water came down from the roof of the cavern over a collection of sharp rocks, entering the watery pool and giving life to its glowing surface. The water-slick jutting walls of carved rock glistened and reflected and distributed the light throughout.

Looking down to the edge of the rocky pathway that lined the watery pool, Emma discovered the cloaked figure of the old woman standing now with her back turned. She didn't say a word to Belle as she took the initiative to follow the rock walkway down towards the glowing water's edge. "Hey," Emma called out to her. The woman did not budge.

"The old hag disguise isn't fooling anyone," Emma crossed her arms impatiently as Belle caught up to her side. "Obviously if you were willing to lead us down here, you're willing to talk."

"Not to you." A shockingly young, vibrant feminine voice responded out from the hood, biting back at Emma in a low snarl. She knelt down by the watery pool and skimmed her fingers along the surface, collecting a small pool of water within her cupped palm. She stood back up, finally pulling back the hood of her cloak and turning to face Emma and Belle in the same haggard form of an old hag. Before Belle or Emma could say anything, she raised her cupped hand over her face to dribble the water over her wrinkled skin.

Her form changed in an instant, reacting from the water to reveal her natural goddess like form. Her stringy silver hair flowed out into long radiant black curls, half pinned back from her face while the rest draped over the front of her cloak. Her cheekbones were high beneath her pinking cheeks. The sags of wrinkled skin firmed into a soft, ivory complexion. Her eyes, which previously hidden in sags of wrinkled skin were now defined by longer youthful eyelashes and firmer lids, letting the sharp sea blue color of her irises brighten.

Calypso let the cloak fall to the floor, revealing her draping beaded gown fit only for a goddess of her stature. She eyed the fall of the cloak for a moment before returning her glare up at Emma. "The grace of your misfortune is the only reason I've allowed you down here. I'd much rather listen to your counterpart say whatever it is needed to be said."

Taking an uncomfortable step between the two woman, Belle cleared her throat, "We need your help."

"Yes, I know why you've sought me out," Calypso murmured coolly. "I'm not in any state to seek out the Dutchman just for the lives of two mortals. I've got far too much to attend to as it is."

Emma's jaw dropped, her eyes firing in aggression, "Are you serious?"

"It's not just two mortals," Belle interjected. "One of them is your granddaughter. Your son was taken to the ship as well. Surely there must be something you can-"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't _you_ the all-powerful Savior, Emma Swan?" Calypso jeered sadistically. "Isn't that _your_ job, to save the ones closest to you?" The venom laced in the goddess's voice made even Belle take a step back, allowing the two other woman to exchange their heated glances towards the other. "Now that I've finally got a good look at you, I can't imagine what got my son in such a state of love-sick frenzy. You're nothing more than a common maid possessing nothing more than a few cheap parlor tricks."

It took everything in Emma to restrain her rebuttal in attack. She grit her teeth together, keeping her gaze steady with that of Calypso to prove she wasn't standing down.

Belle shuffled her weight uncomfortably, "We're not here to cause offense or even ask you do come with us. We just need a way to get onto the Dutchman. Please," Belle pleaded.

Calypso turned back to Belle with an even stare. "Darling you ought not to beg. It's very unbecoming."

"But your son-"

"Killian has lived many lifespans on this earth. I made him mortal, as was his brother. Neither were meant to live forever."

Belle shook her head in disbelief, "So you're just going to let his father run out his sentence, let your youngest son be sent to the Locker or worse, have to endure a century of servitude?"

Calypso stiffened, "He's fully grown and is responsible for accounting to the mistakes he's made in life. Whatever quarrel is left between him and his father remains solely between them."

"That's bullshit." Emma growled furiously. "I'm good at recognizing when someone is lying, and _that _was far from any truth I've heard. You're his mother. You can't just shrug off the fact that your surviving child is about to be sentenced to death by his own _father_." Emma spat out her last word in disgust. "I get that we've never met and clearly you hate me for marrying your son, but that besides the point. You have the power to do something, to stop the Captain from doing whatever it is that he has planned, and yet you stay here," she gestured out around her to the cavern, "skulking in the dark; alone; doing _nothing_."

Calypso's nostrils flared as her eyes widened in rage. "You dare come here, seek me out for assistance, and yet still have the audacity to speak to me in such a manner?"

"Your son didn't marry me for my subtleties," Emma snapped. "While you seemingly care little to none about your _only son_, he means the world to me. Killian has given me _everything_ I've never had growing up and has _always_ stayed by my side to experience every danger I've come up against. Now it's my turn. I'm not leaving until you swallow your god-damned pride and figure out a way to get the _both_ of us to the Dutchman."

Calypso studied Emma's raging expression flatly, perceptively cocking her head to the side as her stressed brow relaxed. She sighed, "Thank you, Emma Swan. That's all I needed to hear."

Emma flinched back, her expression widening in utter shock as the goddess turned her back to the two women and walked closer to the edge of the pool. "Come again?"

"We've yet to meet until now," Calypso spoke calmly. "Before you came along, Killian's home was aboard his ship on the ocean, where I could keep watch over him. Now I hardly see him anymore. I only hear stories of him from the outskirting merchants, all of these tales mostly including you and your daughter." Calypso turned with a grim smile, "Have you ever wondered why Liam and Killian were so fond of living on the sea?"

"He's always loved the sea." Emma shrugged, "It's always been a part of him."

The goddess lowered her voice, "I kept the both of them close. I watched over them, raised them, gave them passion and drive to explore the uncharted world together as brothers. Together they were their own family, and I, their ever-present mother."

"That's not how Killian sees it," Emma muttered. "He's been through some crazy shit in his life and doesn't ever recall seeing you there offering a helping hand."

"There's a difference between watching over one's child and protecting them from the full measure of life. Without tragedy, he could never know happiness. I couldn't prevent the passing of Liam because his infliction was dealt on land. Besides, his father was all too willing to bring him aboard the Dutchman following his death." Calypso looked down to the water, diverting from Emma's judgmental gaze. "Killian can deny me all he likes. It doesn't change the fact that I have always been there."

"Then be here for him now. He needs you. Our daughter, your granddaughter, needs your help." Emma's voice softened into a gentle plea, "Please, I know you can."

Calypso blinked, shuffling her glance back to Belle who had tried to remain quiet throughout their heated exchange. "There's no sense getting aboard the Dutchman without this." With the turn of her wrist, a long parchment scroll appeared in her extended grasp. "Once you are aboard the Dutchman, bring this scroll to Pan. I'm sure by now he's grown tired of amusing the crew with his foreplay."

"How did you know about Peter Pan?"

The goddess sighed, "Let this be a lesson to you, Emma Swan. Never underestimate opponents you can't fully understand. Don't make the mistake of tempting fate once you're aboard the Dutchman. When you see the opportunity to exploit Davy Jones, take it. I promise that you'll endure _far worse_ if he catches on before you strike. He may just seem like a pirate, but there is a reason he is known as a legend."

Her words of warning shook Emma and made it difficult to gather the courage to accept the map Calypso offered. "What do we have to do to stop him?"

"The curse of the Dutchman has already taken root in your daughter. I can feel it; the transfer of magical powers between the two of them. As she grows stronger, Davy Jones will become weak. You must be sure to do your bidding before Elizabeth loses control and succumbs to the curse entirely. Once her heart goes into that chest, there's nothing that can be done to save her."

Emma nodded in understanding, her grip around the rolled scroll tightening. "Get on the Dutchman, let Peter do his thing, find Lizzie and Killian, and get them both off the ship."

"And don't get caught," Calypso added. "The ship is not anchored in this world, but rather the Underworld. Davy Jones is buying his time in an ocean where she is quite literally trapped. If you are going to save Elizabeth, you must get that ship back a the living world."

"Right, because nothing's ever made simple," Emma muttered bitterly while turning to Belle. "You ready?"

Belle nodded firmly, her gaze hardening in angry determination. Calypso gestured to the watery pool, "There's a portal at the bottom of the pool. It will take you wherever you desire. Be sure to disguise yourselves once you're aboard."

Belle answered with a polite _thank you_, and walked into the waters. Before Emma followed, she hesitated and turned back to the goddess. "If we make it out of this alive, I'll tell him you helped me."

"As I said before, I do not need Killian to have a good favor of me. I just need to him to be safe, him and my granddaughter."

"Even still he has a right to know... thank you," Emma smiled in farewell, hesitating another moment before turning to follow Belle into the pool.

* * *

Elizabeth walked down the narrow hallway of the Dutchman, still followed closely by the pirate who had fetched her from her cell. Her eyes darted around her to gather a full scope of the ship, memorizing the quarters and hallways she ventured down to get a better understanding of the ship's layout. She remembered back in her youth when her father spoke to her about the threat of being commandeered by another enemy ship, and the steps she needed to take as a captive to have the best chance at surviving. Learning about the ship and its crew mates was a big step, one she was struggling to achieve due to the nonsensical winding hallways and distance she has so far had with the rest of the crew.

Just as the two of them rounded yet another corner, Elizabeth heard a swift strike inflicted upon the pirate guard walking behind her. The pirate grunted, though immediately fell to the ground unconscious. Elizabeth looked up to the young boy standing behind the shriveled up form, wielding his cheap club and fashioning a boyish smirk.

"Devin?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

The Lost Boy raised a finger to his lips in silence and quickly offered his hand out to her. The two of them rushed over the body of the pirate, down the hall, until Devin led the both of them into an empty guest quarters. He shut the door and immediately pulled off his cumbersome leather hat. "Lizzie," he grinned while practically jumping on her with open arms.

She choked out a small laugh and leaned her head over his shoulder. "I saw Felix yesterday, but I didn't think-"

"That Peter would have all his boys on board?" Devin smirked with a raised brow. "No there's only a few of us. Peter's here too, but he said it's important that you two don't see each other."

"Why?"

"He needs to stay under the radar more than _any_ of us. Us Lost Boys blend in just fine with the rest of the crew, but Peter Pan, not so much." He smiled, "He has a plan though. The main thing he wanted me to tell you is that you can't use your magic. If you use your magic, it will only make everything worse."

"What do you mean, worse?"

Devin frowned, "Peter said that the Captain is trying to rid himself of his curse by passing it on to you. If you use the magic you've been given, it's going to speed along the transition. You have to conceal it."

"But it hurts," Elizabeth argued. "You don't get it, Devin. I feel _sick_ on this ship. If I don't use my magic, this sharp, cold pain swells up inside of me. Magic is the only release I have to soothe it."

"You have to fight off everything that you're feeling. We'll have you off this ship in no time." Devin shook his head, "You have to stay strong."

"It's not that easy," Elizabeth frowned.

A swift shrieking sound of a stabbing blade suddenly interrupted whatever it was that Devin was planning to say next. His eyes widened in horror as his voice was cut short. Elizabeth followed his lowering gaze down to the center of his chest where the long end of a metal sword now stuck out of his bloodying breast bone. Another pirate, who had snuck up on the two of them from the open doorway, stood up straight behind the boy still wielding his impaled sword.

"Devin!" Elizabeth cried as the pirate pulled the sword back out of the young boy's body. He fell forward into Elizabeth's arms, the muscles of his body quickly relaxing as the blood filled his punctured lungs. She crouched down to the floor with him in his arms, "No, no! Please no!"

The pirate grinned as he wiped his bloodied blade over his pant legs, "Sorry missy. No stowaways allowed on this vessel."

Devin convulsed in Elizabeth's arms, his still youthful gaze darting rapidly around the room as the panic set in. Elizabeth cooed him amidst her half-sobs. Her hand was pressed firmly against the front of his chest, though she knew this wound would work its damage quickly. "Shh it's okay," she whispered. "Devin, it's okay. You're okay."

The pirate chuckled passively, cocking his head to the side with a scornful grin as the Lost Boy gradually calmed in her arms. His eyes glossed over in his final seconds of looking up to Lizzie. When his breathing stilled and Elizabeth finally heard the pirates low chuckles over her pained breathing, something inside of her snapped. Her eyes narrowed up at the pirate murderously. Without so much of a single word, Elizabeth gently lowered the dead Lost Boy to the ground and stood back up to face the pirate.

He continued to fashion his proud grin, "Now don't be getting riled up with me, love. I'm only following orders."

"Do you realize what you just did?" She muttered in a low growl.

"Aye," he nodded. "One less bit of vermin for another crew mate to deal with. You should know that it wasn't him I was after. Before this lad interrupted, you were being brought down to the crew's quarters." His grin shriveled disgustingly. "We were told a fetching rumor that you are to become our new Captain. We're looking to alleviate those rumors."

"Try to touch me," she snarled with watery eyes. "I dare you." The emotions of anger and pain were festering within the pit of her chest were the weight, the _burden_, was still growing. Her murderous rage was strong enough for her to taste her bloodlust at the tip of her tongue. She wanted to take the man's sword and plunge it deep into his neck. She wanted to watch him suffer ten-fold to what Devin had just endured.

The magic wavered along the tips of her fingers. Elizabeth clenched her hands into shaking fists as the fury continued to blind all sense of rationality.

"I doubt there's even an ounce of magic in you," the pirate sneered in her face, allowing his foul breath to infiltrate her senses. "What right have you got to captain the Dutchman?"

_Kill him now_, the temptation to utilize her magic whispered in her subconscious. She could. She could feel the strength of her magic continue to grow until it started to hurt.

The pirate darted his gaze down to the girl's tightly balled fists, as if he himself was waiting for her to strike him down.

Then it dawned on her.

_That's exactly what he was doing._ He was baiting her. He was trying to get her to use her magic, just like what Devin said.

"The Captain sent you to do this." She muttered lowly. "He knew what needed to be done to rattle my nerves, therefore he must already know about the Lost Boys aboard the ship."

The pirate only grinned in confirmation to her accusation. "No one comes aboard without the Captain knowing. Just because you 'aint seen much of the Captain, doesn't mean he's turned a blind eye. Everyone has a part to play. It seems having a few youngsters aboard make the Captain's plan all the more easier."

Elizabeth swallowed a deep breath, dropping her shoulders and suppressing her consuming urge to make use of her urges to make the man suffer. She observed the physical build of his body and knew where the best areas would be to strike. Just as he took his final encroaching step, Elizabeth lunged forward with firmly outstretched fingers, striking each pressure point with all the strength she could muster.

Unprepared to defend himself from her surprise physical attack, the pirate groaned with a scowl before dropping down to the floor. His arms were limp from where she paralyzed the joints of his shoulders, allowing her the opportunity to walk over him without fear of being grabbed.

The door swung open just before she had the opportunity to even reach for the handle. A larger group of men, perhaps four to five other pirates, filled the entrance of the room. Each had an equally malicious sneer directed towards Elizabeth. _One pirate she could handle, but five? _

"Don't run off just yet." One of the standing by the door crossed his arms with an aggressive smirk.

Elizabeth took a step back, nearly tripping over Devin's body before rearing back against the wall. The group of rallied pirates read her cornered position as an advantage as they steadily prowled across the room to stand around her, blocking off any chance of escape.

Elizabeth's breath hitched. Despite her better intention, she could feel the magic begin to again stir within her, this time as an instinct of defense. _Keep it together, Lizzie_, she chided herself though it proved to be no avail. The chill of magic had already begun to fester in her heart. Elizabeth's fingertips began to tingle with the urge to throw these men back.

One of the men took another advancing step towards her, his gaze raking down her frame like a ravenous stray dog ready to pounce. Elizabeth steadied herself and again, read the signs that pointed to the approaching pirate's weak spots. Her defensive glare fixated on the man's hungry smirk, "If you want to continue feeling anything below the waist, you'll reconsider this little endeavor of yours."

"Darling, I'm hoping to feel _much more_ below the waist. Surely you can help with that." The man flashed a predatory grin. Leaning back even further away, Lizzie tasted the bile pool in her mouth from her disgust. "Why don't you work some of your magic on me, girl? Show us what you're made of."

"No," Elizabeth gritted her teeth, using all restraint she could possibly muster to hold back the agonizing build-up of magic. "It's not going to be that easy."

The group of men chuckled lowly, exchanging amused glances as if they were hoping she'd abstain from fighting back. _Don't give in, Lizzie. Listen to Devin, conceal it. _Despite the echoed words of determination, Elizabeth felt the effects of her pent-up magic begin to take its toll on her limbs. She dropped her eyes back down to the deadLost Boy and felt the shudders of rage and agony plague all that was left of her composure. Her knees began to shake. _God everything hurt. Everything was... freezing inside of her. _She reached out to grab the corner of the desk in an effort to prop herself up. There was no way she'd fight her way out of this, not while the magic was gathering in her chest at such a merciless pace. The nearest pirate cocked his head towards her, revealing an excited filthy grin. "I do love a good fighter. Let's see it, girl. Give me a good show and we'll leave you to your peace."

She dropped her head. Against her stubborn will, her lips trembled as the physical agony of her festering unused magic continued to scathe her insides. "I won't," she murmured. Her weakened grip around the desk failed, and before she could think to reach out for another surface, Elizabeth stumbled down to the floor.

She winced her eyes shut, deciding then and there that she'd rather let these men have their way with her and be later murdered than give in and let the magic consume her.

"You men want to see a _real_ magic trick?" She heard a new, youthful voice echo from the open doorway.

Even with her eyes withered shut, Elizabeth knew that voice: Peter.

Despite her desperate need to see him, she couldn't muster the strength to battle the fatigue that now claimed her body. Up until then, the magic within her had only been simmering and was tolerable. This was different. With her emotions spiked in all directions – anger, guilt, fear, sadness, and doubt – there was no controlling the increased flow of magic within her. _Devin was gone. He died away from his brothers only just so that he could deliver a message to her._ The ice sting of her magic ached in her chest, causing white spots to flood her vision. _Damn it Lizzie, don't give in. Don't look. Close your eyes._

She listened as the room got quiet. Just before the pain claimed her consciousness, Elizabeth heard the bone-chilling snaps and crackles of necks followed by plummeting of six bodies onto the wooden floor.

* * *

The core of her chest had cooled into a heavy hardened still. She felt the weight begin to consume her, freezing her chest cavity into what felt like a frozen tundra. Her palm spread wide over the cut of her shirt and she sensed the cool spell of magic seep through her skin.

Elizabeth's breath faltered. Her eyes gaped open as she flinched back in the arms of whoever it was that was holding her. She looked up at the shadowed face hidden beneath the greasy strands of golden hair that dangled over his eyes: Felix.

They were back in her jail cell. Crouching close on both sides of Felix was Adam and Milah, who had been let out of their cells to help tend to Elizabeth while she was unconscious.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a pained whimper as she felt the pulsating throb of her ice cold heart. The organ worked against the chips of ice freezing along the ventricles, forming then shattering from every quivering pulse.

They could see the paling of Elizabeth's skin and the silvering of her radiant golden hair. "Felix, it hurts," she whimpered quietly. "I have to let the magic out."

Even from gripping the bare skin of her arm, Felix could feel the coldness continue claim her body. Elizabeth tried to hold an even stare with him as she normally did, though the pain was too strong to ignore and caused her to let out another pained cry.

Adam reached out and spread his hot, sweating palm over the cool skin of her forehead. He turned to Felix, "She can't take much more of this. _Do something_."

Elizabeth wrapped her hand around Felix's forearm just as she experienced another sharp, splitting pain cut through her chest. "Please," she sobbed. "I'm sorry." The magic began to seep from her fingers, spreading the sting of frostbite over Adam's hand where he held on to her.

Adam dropped his head, biting back the shout of agony as the magic-induced frostbite spread up his arm. Elizabeth cried, "I can't stop it. Adam, let go."

"This is clearly beyond our care," Felix muttered lowly. He reached into the front shirt pocket and pulled out a miniature drawstring bag. Adam and Milah both frowned in misunderstanding, watching silently as Felix reached two fingers into the bag. Elizabeth let out another whimpering sob as Felix held a pinch of sparkling powder close to Elizabeth's face.

"Open wide," he muttered. She took a quick gasp for air to settle her breathing, and in that short second, Felix flicked the green pixie dust into Elizabeth's mouth. She convulsed back immediately, twitching and tossing in Felix's firm hold to battle the vile taste of magic dust to ingest.

"What did you do to her?" Adam growled. "What is that stuff?"

"A bit of Pan's pixie dust," Felix answered flatly, his gaze still trained down on Elizabeth as the effects of the dust started to cloud her vision, "only to be used for emergencies." Her body relaxed in his arms, magically influenced into a deep sleep. "If I couldn't get her to calm down, then I was to send to her to the one person that can."

* * *

Elizabeth's fingers hooked around a dirtied root jutting out from the soft forest soil. The pain had subsided to a bearable degree where moving was becoming an option. Without bothering to open her eyes, she exerted her strength around the grip of the root, pulling herself upright to lean against the nearby tree. She was grateful when feeling a cushioning bed of moss beneath her, making it more comfortable for her just to sit there without having to shift too much.

Only when she was able to actually sit up did she attempt to crack her eyes open to get a good look at her surroundings. The forest she was in was undeniably enchanted; the roots of every tree exposed flickers of green light through the cracks of its bark while sparks of alighted pixie dust drifted in the air like lazy fireflies. The moonlight glimmered through the open spaces of the forest canopy overhead, casting a faint blue glow over everything so that she could recognize the forest for what it was.

She was in Neverland, or rather _dreaming_ she was there.

"Lizzie." His voice uttered out through the dark silence, causing an immediate stir of warmth to churn against her numbed insides. She searched through the black shade of trees for his nimble frame until finally she caught sight of him.

Peter stepped forward out of the shadows, his green stare widen with apprehension now that he finally got to _see_ her. Felix was never one for the dramatics and wouldn't ask for help unless he sincerely needed it, though it didn't cross Peter's mind that Felix would have allowed it to get _this_ bad. Curled up, withering against the base of a tree with pale skin like death, Elizabeth had been almost fully consumed by her magic.

He paced across the clearing of trees until he met her by her side. Elizabeth let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes with the relief of feeling his arms cradle beneath her deteriorated body. She winced at the pressure of he exerted as he tried to lift her. The pain exponentially worse now that her nerves were frozen in ice. "Please don't, Peter," she murmured. "It hurts."

He pulled away from her baring an equally confused and irritated expression. Cupping the side of her cool cheek, Peter dragged his thumb along her cheek bone to feel the swell of heat following his touch. She leaned in against his hand, pursing her lips to keep from letting out the sobs welling into a ball in the base of her throat. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered.

"Yes you can," he answered flatly.

She let out a choked sob, pressing her cheek against the slow circles Peter was drawing with his thumb along her temple. "I can't keep this up. There's no way to control it, not while they're killing everyone who's trying to help me."

"Look at me," Peter murmured, his voice hushed in a menacing whisper. Her squinting eyelids fluttered up to meet his furious green stare. "No one, not your father, your mother, your closest friends, or some ruddy undone Pirate King is taking you away from me. My Lost Boys knew the risk before coming aboard, though nevertheless I swear on my honor as a Lost Boy, every pirate aboard this ship will pay the price of Devin's loss."

He lowered his hand down her collar over her chest. "You _can_ control this."

Elizabeth felt the heat of Peter's touch leave traces of fire down her skin. The mere contact of his fingers over her skin returned so much relief to her otherwise numbed senses, she couldn't help but let out a soft hum. "How?"

"Emotion," he muttered lowly. He brushed this thumb over the corner of her lip, relaxing the strained muscles of her trembling jaw. "That's all magic is, Lizzie. Magic is fueled by emotion. If you become over-emotional, you loss control of your magic. Gather control of them, and you'll have control over your magic."

"Emotions are what caused this," she weakly argued. "Venting is only going make it worse."

"You let the emotions in, now it only makes sense that you let them out." Peter leaned in, closing the meager proximity between them. He paused just inches from her lips. His warm breath brushed over her nose and tickled her pale skin. Peter opened his eyes and whispered, "Let me help you."

Elizabeth gasped in a broken breath before taking the initiative to lean forward, catching his mouth with her own. Peter felt the weakness in her inability to keep up at their normal pace. Her lips were still unnaturally cold, devoid of any pinkness from blood flow, while her jaw was to feeble to handle his molding mouth without shuddering beneath him.

A low, feral growl erupted out of Peter when she fell back from the tree onto the forest ground, pulling him on top of her. Her leaning back wasn't for the sake of accelerating their passions; she just didn't have the strength. Peter was furious that someone could have inflicted so much damage to her, degrading her fierce nature into something so fragile he feared the possibility of breaking her even under the gentlest of touch.

In an effort to hold her in place, Peter wove his fingers through her blonde locks. He exerted as much as he could into their embrace without causing discomfort.

Elizabeth breathed a gentle sigh into Peter's mouth when the effects began to take hold. All of her pent-up magic that had frozen her insides solid, the tension that had draining her of life and spirit, was beginning to lift from her chest.

Her heart was the first to thaw; the contact of their kiss was enough to kickstart it and pulse out strong waves of love throughout her body. Elizabeth could feel the heat of Peter's lips, down to where his hands gripped the bare skin of her waist beneath the cut of her shirt. His touch was quite literally thawing her insides, replacing the biting cold with coursing heat. Every turn of his mouth surged another wave of warmth through her to the point where she could start to feel the energy return to her decrepit limbs.

"Peter," she muttered breathily, pulling back ever so slightly so that she could get another clearer look at him. Even her vision had sharpened back to its normal clarity.

He looked down on her and noticed the return of brightness in her bright blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushing back with life as her lips remained parted, gasping for air. She grabbed hold of his forearm which supported his weight over her. Tracing a gentle trail up to his shoulder, she smiled, "I think it's working."

Peter smirked while leaning back down. Starting at the corner of her mouth, he trailed light kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. She let out a weak chuckle, crinkling her eyes shut as she wrapped her arms up his back and into his soft golden hair. Each light kiss he bestowed down her collarbone sent the sensation of pins and needles though her. He paused over the chain of her pendent, then leaned up back to the top of her neck just below the ear. "Elizabeth," she could feel his lips brush against the cartilage of her ear, "let yourself go."

His words stirred the awakening of her lower gut. The primal urges kicked in and melted all that was left of her harvesting tension. Dropping her hands down down to his waist, Elizabeth aggressively flipped the two of them over so that she was now straddling him in the dirt. Peter gawked up at Elizabeth, relishing in the sight of fire returning to her eyes. She lowered back down to him, letting her body reacquaint itself with his. "There you are," Peter chuckled with an excited grin before catching her lips once more.

Elizabeth smiled and let out an invigorated laugh. The warmth was now quite literally surging through her chest in waves. With Peter pouring every ounce of himself into their passionate embrace, the magic finally had a way of working itself out rather than being used.

"God, I've missed you." She whispered breathily against the skin of his jaw before trailing kisses behind his ear. She could feel his hands grip her waist as her mouth ventured over the pulse point along his neck. He pulled her back up and found her lips before flipping the two of them back over.

"It won't be long before I have you again," he muttered lowly. Elizabeth suddenly frowned up at him in confusion, noticing that his figure was starting to fade. He glared down at his hand, which was becoming transparent. "I'm waking up."

"No," she shook her head, "Not yet. Please not yet."

He smiled grimly and leaned back down over her to catch her mouth once more. Her grip around his shoulder began to seep through; the feeling of his mouth against hers started to fade. "This will all be set right. For every one of my boys they harm, for every mark or bruise they inflict on you, I promise they will suffer ten-fold. I swear to you, Lizzie, I will get you off this ship."

* * *

"Wake up, scum!" A horrid boisterous voice shouted out down the stairwell into the sleeping quarters where the rest of the crew mates slept on individual hammocks. Peter's eyes shot open, at first a little rattled by the abrupt wake-up call.

"The Captain's calling for the crew on the main deck right now."

The pirates that were asleep in their hammocks all complained in unison groans and complaints, "What the bloody hell...-"

"There's been a scuffle." The announcer explained, still gripping the wooden stairwell pole. "A few bodies were found."

"Christ," one of the pirates near Peter muttered nervously. He turned to the boy obliviously as Peter rolled off the hammock to stand. The pirate frowned, "This will be one hell of a beating for sure."


End file.
